Don't You Remember
by Ali989969
Summary: Sookie and Eric broke up five years ago when he left for college. A heartbreaking experience puts them back into each other's orbits. How have they changed and is a second chance for them possible? Sequel to "What the Hell"
1. Gallows of Heartache

**5/4/13 AN: To those of you just joining this story, welcome. To re-readers, welcome back. After spending an _amazing_ weekend with MissyDee and discussing my Godawful ADD when it comes to writing, this story came up. I have been stalled because I just wasn't really convinced It could be where it was and be realistic as I had written it. So I'm editing. Chapters 1 and 2 are the same. Again, if you're new, let me know how you feel; re-readers, if you haven't left a review, please do so. I don't own CH's toys... no matter how much I may want to throttle their creator.**

**EPOV**

_ "Third and nine with the Volunteers on their own thirty-four… Forty-seven seconds left of play and the Clemson Tigers are up by five… Tennessee needs this first down… Northman back in the shotgun… He has time… trying to find an open man downfield… Kahn finds an opening… Northman manages to release the ball before he goes down… Rubio makes the catch on the thirty… he shakes off two tackles before being shoved out-of-bounds at the nineteen… Northman is still down… Coach Livius and the training staff take the field… We'll take a brief time out and return in just a moment to the Discover Orange Bowl…"_

That's always where I stop watching. Reaching across my body with my left arm, I run my fingers over the scars from my shoulder surgery. Kahn was a big motherfucker and my arm was still raised and moving when he hit me. My shoulder was dislocated and the cartilage of the joint was torn. The pain was blinding and to this day I still can't clearly remember leaving the field.

The only thing I'm grateful for is that I got to play almost all of my final college game. It's the only reason I was able to keep my scholarship to finish my last semester. Not that I had majored in anything significant. I followed suit with the other jocks and got my degree in phys ed. I was still active after I recovered from the surgery, but was determined to be ineligible to be drafted due to the high risk of reinjury.

"Baby, come back to bed," I hear a sleepy voice whine from down the hall and I shudder. Heidi pads out to the den of my apartment wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts. That pisses me off. She knows I don't do sleepovers. I pick her dress off the floor where it landed after I practically ripped it off her and toss it in her direction.

"Time for you to go home," I tell her and ignore the hurt look in her eyes. "And I'm not your fucking 'baby'."

She stomps back to my room to dress. I realize that I have become just what Sookie always feared I would. After she dumped me, I spent the last two weeks in town avoiding everyone and anything that would remind me of her. My first night in Knoxville, I attempted to fuck her out of my head with some girl named Janella, but it didn't work. She never _really_ left my thoughts, but it got easier to ignore as I got busier with classes and practices. And once I was free to do so, I never stopped sampling the female student population. I regained my former fuck-and-run reputation, but I didn't care. I stopped caring what my playmates thought of me. I never made any promises to anyone. If they felt hurt by my dismissal or thought I would change for them, it was their own damn fault. I never lied about my intentions.

I continue flipping through channels as Heidi clacks down my hall in stilettos. My jaw stiffens. I hate the sound and effects of high heels on my hardwood. I ignore her until I hear the door open and slam closed. I sigh and let myself relax. I should have known better than to get involved with someone from high school, even for just a few hours. Their expectations of me are entirely too high.

I grab a beer from the fridge and settle back on the couch. Since I no longer exert myself in daily practices and workouts, I don't sleep as well as I used to. Glancing at the clock, I notice it's well after three a.m. So I'm surprised to see my mom's cell phone on my call ID when my phone vibrates on the coffee table.

"Yeah, Mom, what's up?" I ask. Since I moved home earlier this month and got a place of my own, I haven't kept in close contact with my parents

"Eric, I hate calling you so late, but I thought you should know…" she trails off.

I roll my eyes. "Ma, I'm tired. Say what you want to say."

"Fine," she huffs, already impatient with my mood. "I know you're reconnecting with some of your old friends and one of them got arrested tonight, so I didn't know if you had been contacted or if you were even talking to him…"

I had gotten in touch with both Clancy and Max when I got back to town, but none of us had anything besides a past in common anymore. It was just awkward. "Mom, spit it out. Tell me who got arrested and I'll tell you if I care." Yes, I'm an ass. Now ask if I give a damn.

Her thoughts on that sentiment are clear in her tone. "Your old buddy Bill Compton came in for some stitches in his head. He was picked up in the ER tonight for DUI and…"

I chuckled. "That fuck-up? I never even considered getting in touch with him. What'd he do, hit a tree?"

For the first time, Mom's voice shakes with an emotion other than exasperation. "He got picked up for DUI and vehicular manslaughter. He killed a man tonight."

**SPOV**

"Just a few more boxes and we'll be done," I pant to my brother as I struggle to hand him a box full of books from the back of the moving truck. He handles it with ease and grins at the almost-empty trailer. I was sad when Gran passed a couple of years ago, and I never thought she'd leave me her house. Hadley and Chester broke up when she left for college and she is engaged to a Russian history major named Alexi in North Carolina. Sophie and Bert married after she finished college and have their own house about half an hour away. Andre married an awesome girl, an artist named Neave. They moved into the mountain-top cabin permanently and she has a ceramic workshop/gallery at the foot of the drive. They already have one adorable baby named Rogan and are always talking about how much they want another. Since Jason and I are the only singletons left and he already built a house of his own, I was more than happy to have somewhere I could live on my own. I love my parents, but at twenty-one, it's a little embarrassing to live with them.

We finally finish unloading the boxes and crates and move them to their appropriate rooms. After the strenuous work, I follow him to the truck drop off and drive him back to Gran's, I mean _my,_ house. I offer to thank him by getting him a pizza and a six-pack to split, but he shakes his head and grins. "I have a better idea. I want dinner _out_ and to celebrate my baby sister finally making it home! Six visits in the past four years have not been enough. But now you're here to stay!"

I swat his shoulder and laugh. "Hush now, someone might think you're happy to see me!"

He kisses the top of my head and orders me to change so he can take me out and show me off. I send him home, a whopping quarter mile away, to shower. I take a few moments to unpack my towels, toiletries, and a huge terrycloth robe I lived in in Chicago. Even though I washed it before it was packed, it still smells like my old apartment a little. It makes me smile.

I spent all of my senior year of high school concentrating on my studies. I stayed on the newspaper staff, but resigned from the dance squad and even cut back on my hours at Merlotte's. I took a lot of AP classes to skip some of the freshman prerequisites for the courses I really wanted. I rarely went out and became quite a homebody. The only people I didn't retreat from were Jason and Tara, who remains my one of my best friends to this day, even while pursuing a career in dance in New York.

When I got to Northwestern and was completely overwhelmed by a city the size of Chicago, I gave myself a couple of weeks to go crazy, have some fun, and learn my way around. While I acclimated to the loud, noisy city, I was able to meet some of my classmates and make some new friends. Also, while I wasn't the campus mattress, I also wasn't a nun. I met a few guys over my four years there that I had _good times_ with. But I never called any of them "boyfriend" or had more than a fun-physical relationship with them.

I also avoided college sports like the plague. It was pretty easy there. Football, unless it involved the Bears or the Packers, was generally ignored, so I didn't have to hide under a rock to get away from it. At home, when I visited for Christmases, it was a different story. But Jason and Daddy were considerate enough to change the channel if a Tennessee game came on, even if it was one they wanted to watch.

I spent as much time as I could I Chicago, even spending the summers after my sophomore and junior years there being a go-fer at the Sun-Times. I loved my family, and I missed my brother and Tara, but I felt that I had temporarily outgrown my small town. But now, I'm happy to be back. There's a feeling of familiarity and comfort that can't be found anywhere else. And being able to live in the house where my daddy and uncle grew up and where so many of my own happy childhood memories are based is priceless. I'm truly happy I was able to find a good job in commuting distance from my hometown.

After my shower, I dress and wait for Jason to pick me up. Amazingly, our relationship became even closer once I moved away. Maybe he began trusting my instincts or started seeing me as an equal, but he has become more than my brother. He's my confidante and closest friend and knows me better than anyone else.

I wander around the house barefooted, just reacquainting myself with the layout. When I get to the guest room, I stop outside the door. I look inside at the stripped bed and bare windows and smile.

Little things remind me of Eric since I've moved back. When I drove over the bridge by the marina, I remembered the summer days at the beach. As I travelled the miles and miles of rolling farmland, I thought of our times in the field. When I passed the ice cream shop across from the high school, I remembered our first time together. Time has tempered the memories so I can look at them fondly, without the bitterness that tainted them earlier.

I hear the noisy diesel truck rattle up my driveway and slide on my shoes. I meet my brother on the porch and spin for his approval. I know he's taking me to Merlotte's, so I'm not dressed up. However, my jeans are tight and flattering while my top is fluttery and low-cut. It isn't much different than how I dress normally, except for the black four-inch "fuck-me" stilettos. Jason gives me a wolf whistle before helping me up into the truck. Heels are a bitch.

We chatter back and forth on the short drive, catching each other up on people we might see tonight. I tell him more about the little regional column I've been hired to write and he tells me more about his new gig as an EMT. The parking lot is filled per usual this close to summer. I barely get in the door before I'm wrapped in a huge, burly hug. I return Senior's hug with a laugh. He jokes about me tying on an apron for old time's sake and I pretend to walk out. He tugs Jason and me to the bar and orders his bartender to give him the tab; he's comping our drinks tonight.

Various old friends find their way to the spot we occupy at the bar. We catch up with JB, Tray, and Holly. Amazingly, Arlene is _still_ working here and happy to see me too. We all laugh, drink, and reminisce. It is a great time until someone I'd forgotten appears at my side.

"It sheems as though we're neighbors now, Shweet Sssookie," Bill slurs into my ear and I feel like I need another shower. I can smell the beer and whisky on him. Jason's posture stiffens and his hands clench into fists.

"My sister doesn't want you around anymore than she did when you assaulted her six years ago. I suggest you move on before I show you how a _re_broken nose feels."

"I think Darling Sssookie is a big girl. Let her speak for hershelf, Ssstackhouse," Bill growls drunkenly and he runs his sweaty fingers down my bare arm. Oh, that's _it…_

I pivot to my feet, spin, cock my arm back, and throw my fist. I don't hit his nose, but I do connect and follow through to his jaw, snapping his head sharply to the side. "You're right. I _am_ a big girl and I can fight my own battles. I don't allow _anyone_ to touch me without permission. Keep your nasty hands to yourself, you dick."

Jason looks like he's on the verge of starting a slow clap. Tray, JB, and Hoyt seem ready to join him. Before he can retaliate, Senior grabs him by the shoulder (harder than necessary), escorts him out, and bars him permanently. Customers watching thank him for doing what they feel should have been done years ago.

Determined to still enjoy my homecoming party, I forget my aching knuckles with a couple of shots and join my brother and buddies for rounds of pool, darts, and pitchers. I get pretty lit, but Jason stays sober (enough) to get us home safely. Time flies and before I know it, Senior yells "Last call". We all finish our drinks, arrange rides for those who need them, and head out. I'm giggly as I thank Senior gratuitously for treating us so well tonight. He kisses my forehead and tells me he's glad I'm home. I almost cry, it's so sweet… and I'm that drunk.

Jason pulls behind Gran's house like always and helps me down. I go to fish my keys out of my pocketbook and realize I don't have it. "Fuck! Jason, I left my purse at the bar. It has my keys and everything!" I know my voice is whiney, but I'm to the sleepy part of my drunk and I just want to lay down more than anything.

"Don't worry, Sook. Use the spare key to let yourself in. I'll run back to Merlotte's while Senior is still there and grab it for you. If you're already asleep, I'll just leave it on the kitchen table." He's already heading back to his truck when I turn the key in the lock. I put it back in its hiding place before I stumble back to my bed.

**XxXxXxXxXx**

Uggh… it's entirely too bright and I am _way_ too hungover to be awake this early. I wince at the sun coming in the windows and determine I need to get some blinds ASAP. I trudge into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I put my head down on the table, listening to the heavenly hisses and plinks of my caffeinated goodness brewing. When I hear a tiny knock on the back door, I assume Jason is coming to fuck with me in my post-drunk, queasy state. It wouldn't be the first time.

When I answer, it's Momma and Daddy. I smile and let them in, apologizing for my state. Both of them look like they've been crying. The only time I've _ever_ seen Daddy cry was when Gran died. I'm suddenly nauseous in a way that has nothing to do with the amount I drank last night. I want to call Jason for his support; they're scaring me. My purse isn't on the table when I go for my phone. I sit in the chair I just got up from and stare at my parents.

"Baby, we have some…" Momma starts and buries her face in her hands, unable to finish. I look over at Daddy and he takes over.

'Sugar, Jason was coming home from Merlotte's last night and… a drunk driver swerved into his lane. From what the state trooper said, it happened too fast to prevent the accident. The other truck was the same size as Jason's, but the other driver was wearing his seat belt. You know Jase never does… did." He chokes a moment before continuing. "Jason's truck was flipped and he was ejected. The truck rolled over him."

I cover my mouth to keep from screaming. After a moment of stunned silence except for Momma's sobs and Daddy's emotional throat clearing, I make myself ask, "So he's in the hospital, right? He's hurt, but he's gonna be okay?"

Momma's arms wrap around me and she pulls me down onto her lap. She strokes my hair like she did when I was little and shakes her head. "Jason's gone, baby."

I feel the heat of the tears on my cheeks before I feel my heart shatter in my chest. My big brother, my confessor, my therapist, my overprotective warden… always willing to fight with and for me, depending on the situation… he's gone. And it's my fault. If I hadn't forgotten my purse, he'd be here now, making a greasy breakfast and giving me shit about my hangover. Jason's dead. I can't accept it and break down against Momma's shoulder. I feel Daddy come up behind me and wraps us both in his arms. I feel like I'll never stop crying knowing that the best brother God could have ever given me has been taken from my world too soon.


	2. There's far too much to take in here

**A/N: First, an apology. I _suck_ at review responses, mainly because time to do them is precious when I have an hour commute to and from work daily (114.8 miles a day) and I spend time with my boys when I get home. My kids take priority, as they should. After their bedtime, I read, write, and try to sleep so I can repeat the process. So please know that I appreciate EACH and EVERY review and alert that I get. I still get school-girl giddy every time the message light on my phone goes blinky. **

**On a side note, MissyDee beta'd this sucker for me so I could post tonight, just like I promised. She's awesome and you should read all of her stuff. All kinds of juicy lemons so I'm permanently puckered while reading. Enjoy the next chapter.**

**SPOV**

The next few days are filled with visitors and planning. Uncle Victor and Aunt Sandy practically move into my parents' house, helping them deal with the influx of meals, flowers, and platitudes from friends that can't truly sympathize with how it feels to bury a child.

While I want to be there for my parents, I'm grieving just as much. I cling to Hadley when she arrives with Alexi, her eyes swollen and bloodshot. She is the closest thing I have to a sister. We are the same age, were in the same classes in school, and grew up together. While we grew apart as our interests became different, she is still closer to me than either Sophie or Andre and she knows how this loss affects me.

Without my brother, my hometown has become just a place to live. Having Jason so close was a big motivator for moving back. I simply don't know how I'm going to deal with losing him.

And Bill Fucking Compton… Momma and I both almost lose it when Phil comes by to pay his respects. While the thoughts are appreciated, and he isn't to blame for his child's mistakes, his son killed Jason with his stupidity and managed to survive with just a few scratches on his head. It isn't fair. I run my fingers over the light bruises on my knuckles and think that if I run into Bill anytime soon, he'll be lucky to walk away with just a punch. Hell, he'll be lucky to walk away, period.

I give myself the task of putting together a photo collage for the wake. I need to keep busy and I want to be alone. It takes longer than I expect. Momma became a shutterbug the moment Jason was born, documenting our childhoods and adolescences in boxes and boxes of four-by-six glossy sheets. I can't help but smile through my tears at a gap-toothed Jason splashing a toddler me in the pond. I see him, tall for his age and all dressed up, leaving with Daddy to pick up a date for a middle school dance. I remember his goofiness, posing on the hood of his first truck, and his pride, smiling in his cap and gown.

I relive my own memories of every moment I see captured on film. Jason smiling, laughing, smirking. No matter his age, whether in a photograph or my mind, my brother was happy. Even when he was disappointed or angry, he was never down for long before his grin and dimples returned.

I sequestered myself in my old room earlier and I lean back in the desk chair. Closing my eyes, I remember Jason flirting, joking, his visits to Chicago and kidding about fishing the new area for fresh booty call material. Jason giving me grief about all my crap as he helped me pack up my apartment and offering to drive the truck while I follow in my car since I was uncomfortable driving something so big. He had always been my biggest cheerleader and champion. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that he's gone.

How am I going to survive without him?

**EPOV**

I stumble out of bed a little after noon. An unfortunate result of not being able to sleep until close to seven a.m. I still don't drink coffee, but I might start since it's getting harder and harder to get on a schedule with so little sleep. I sip a bottle of juice and replay the conversation I had with Mom earlier that morning. Bill had been arrested last night.

I remember that Mom sounded a little choked up when she was telling me about Bill's arrest. That didn't make any sense. She saw it weekly, if not nightly, working in the emergency room. She hadn't known him well when we were friends and hadn't much liked him then . Why would she be emotional over him being locked up for any reason.

The best place for gossip was Merlotte's. Some things never change. I pull on some jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing my keys. I still drive my red Camaro. The car fits me and I feel no need to change perfection.

The parking lot isn't as full as it normally is for a Saturday lunch. I park close to the door and wander in. I haven't been by many times since I've moved back, but the food is as good as I remember it being years ago. I think I might grab a table until I realize the few customers are all congregated around the bar. I decide to join them and catch up on the news.

I'm shocked by Senior's rumpled appearance. I'm also surprised to see his son… whatever his name is… with his arm around his father's shoulders. Both of them look distraught and raw. I can't imagine they'd be broken up over Bill's arrest, no matter how frequently he came in. Suddenly, I feel like shit for not remembering. Vehicular manslaughter. Who the fuck did he kill?

I order an ice water and when Junior comes to drop it off, I wave him closer. "What happened last night. I heard there was a DUI fatality. Who was it?"

His eyes glaze with ice as he stares me down. "Just here for the gossip, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. You'll find out sooner or later anyway, but if you disturb the family while they're mourning, this town will lynch you, football hero or not." I almost ask why he thinks I would when he answers my original question. "Jason Stackhouse."

I sit down on the nearest bar stool hard, stunned. I'm not prepared for that. My memory is flooded with snippets from my past. Jason and I playing video games while I wait for Sookie to get off work. Spending Saturdays with Corbett and Jason watching football. Helping him with random chores, always while waiting to see Sookie. Getting to know the man who had initially been against me even looking at his sister to becoming someone I had considered a friend.

Shit. Sookie. I know how close she and Jason were. Was she still in Chicago? Had she moved somewhere further away? Does she know yet? My first impulse is to drive out to Sookie's old house before I remember the warning given to me by Merlotte Junior. I understand the threat now. The last thing I want to do is add stress to the family when they are dealing with this. Even though Sookie broke my heart when she left me, I would never wish this kind of loss on her. I can't imagine the pain she must be feeling.

Knowing the connection might be why Mom, steadfast nurse who's seen it all, would get a lump in her throat while delivering the news. She might have given me the information last night if I hadn't blown her off. I stalk away from the bar and call her.

I get another surprise when it's not Mom's voice that answers her phone. "You're an asshole, you know that, right?"

"Pam, what are you doing back?" My sister had thrown herself wholeheartedly into drama to the point where she decided to attend Marymount Manhattan College in New York. She moved there full time two years ago after her graduation without much of a backwards glance. I talk to her roughly every other month and our conversations mainly consist of letting the other know we're still alive before things become silent and awkward.

"My break started a couple of weeks ago. I decided against staying in New York with Miriam this summer and made my down the coast, visiting friends, and got in really early this morning. I surprised Mom too. I repeat, you're an asshole."

Not wanting to get into a long discussion on the many reasons she thinks I'm an asshole (today, anyway), I move on without asking for an explanation. "Is Mom up yet, or is she still asleep?"

"Nice of you to ask. She's still out of it. She had a hard night last night, but you wouldn't know or care anything about that, would you? A guy she had gotten to know well and someone who used to be one of _your_ friends was killed last night and you fucking blew her off. She wanted to let you know before gossip got to you, but you never gave her the chance. She and a bunch of the other ER staff were really broken up last night, but you just didn't give a shit about anyone but yourself, did you?"

"Wait, what? How did Mom know him?"

"As other than your old girlfriend's brother, you mean? He became an EMT a few years back and worked the late night shift when he could. Since Mom's on the graveyard shift more often than not, she was used to seeing him. He knew she's _your_ mother and made it a point to keep updated on what you were doing, in case he was ever asked. And you, ever the self-absorbed prick, just laughed about Bill's arrest and pretty much hung up on her."

I slump back against the wall. "Shit. I wanted to tell her that I just found out about Jason and was trying to get some more information since I don't want to disturb the family. Do you know how they are?"

"Well, how the fuck should I know? I just found out a few hours ago and I'm operating on less than three hours of sleep. I haven't had a chance, but I know that Mom is planning on going to the wake to pay her respects to the family. I'm going with her. I don't know if you being there would be such a great idea."

I'm actually offended. "Why not?"

Her sigh expresses nothing but exasperation. "Because, you dumbass, Sookie just lost her brother. She's going to be fucking heartbroken. Do you really think seeing her first love is going to make her feel any better? Like she needs to deal with your shit on top of everything else. No, my suggestion is for you to go out and pick up some random skank, like usual. No need for you to change your routine, right? Doesn't affect you at all."

I slide my phone back in my pocket when it's apparent that she's hung up on me. It fucking stings that my own sister thinks that I'm so self-involved that I can't take someone else's feelings into consideration. _However_, until hearing her reasoning, I would have made it a point to go to the wake. It's been about five years since I considered how my actions would make someone else feel. I really can't think of a more opportune time to have that lesson taught to me, albeit in a very blunt and rude manner.

I try to think of something that I can do to express my condolences without intruding on the Stackhouse family's mourning. When I get back to my apartment, I call a florist and order a tasteful wreath of flowers, then sit back in thought.

Jason had been one of those guys who was so full of life. You could never see anything bad happening to him because it would be wrong to deprive the world of a guy like him. He may have been a bit of a player, but I certainly wouldn't (couldn't) hold that against him. He loved and respected his parents and absolutely adored his little sister. To this day I remain envious of the differences between his relationship with Sookie and mine with Pam. The balance of the world is off when Bill survives an accident that he causes and Jason doesn't.

**SPOV**

Hadley helps me pick out an outfit for the wake. I have a black dress already set aside for the funeral, which I'm still having trouble comprehending. I don't have the slightest idea of what would be appropriate for showing appreciation to people for expressing their sorrow for our loss. Perhaps it's selfish, but, damnit, I don't want to have to deal with other people's grief on top of my own. Eventually we decide on a black knee length skirt and an aqua blue top, Jason's favorite color. I slide on some black flats since I'm going to be on my feet for a while and ride with Hadley and Alexi to the funeral home.

To say I'm surprised by the turnout would be an understatement. I don't think I fully understood how well-known Jason was in our little town until now. High school friends, former co-workers from the road crew, associates from the rescue squad and the hospital, girls he dated, old teammates all show up and wait for us to greet them and receive their sympathy. I'm actually touched and it makes me miss him even more. However, with very few exceptions, the faces and names all blur into each other and I know I'll have to review the guest book to remember who was there. I just accept the handshakes and hugs and wait for the night to be over.

As the afternoon turns to evening, we start to take breaks, nibbling on meals provided by the funeral home. The sandwiches are soggy by the time I sit, and the tea is made from a powder and unsweetened. I munch and sip anyway, trying to get my blood sugar raised so I can stop shaking. The nourishment only barely helps.

Finally, the doors are closed and we are able to leave. Tomorrow is the funeral and burial. I don't know if I can watch Jason lowered into the ground. It's _too_ final. I don't sleep much at all, my thoughts too busy trying to figure out a way to handle tomorrow.

**EPOV**

I pull a dark gray suit out of my closet and find a matching tie. I could accept not going to the wake, but Jason had been a friend of mine and I _will_ pay my respects by attending his funeral. Surprisingly, only a few thoughts while I'm getting ready go to Sookie, and those are only in a sympathetic sense. She had made herself clear when she let me go. But this has _nothing_ to do with our former relationship.

I go to the church mentioned in the obituary and am dumbfounded. The parking lot is filled and overflows to crowd the lots of the park across the street and the bank next door. Guest after guest dressed in black walk down the sidewalk in the same direction. I find a spot to park at the edge of the one of the lots and join the crowd. At the church, I'm greeted by a bland, nondescript man who must work for the funeral home. No one from the Stackhouse family could be so dreary, even on their worst day. I was sure this is shaping up to be one of them.

There is a line to enter the church itself. People seeing others that they haven't seen in years, greeting each other, mourning the reason for the reunion. Men shake hands and women discretely dab at their eyes with tissues. I don't immediately recognize anyone, but that's probably because Jason was a few years older than me and people can change a lot in five years.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Corbett and Michelle huddled close together with another dark-haired man and blonde woman who look almost as destroyed as Jason's parents. Nearby, I recognize Sophie, her eyes red and puffy. One arm wraps around the waist of Bert, the other cradles a small but well-defined bump at her midsection. I offer a nod to Andre who is holding a platinum blonde toddler and talking to a waif-like woman with long black hair. But nowhere do I see the coffee-colored hair of Hadley or any sign of Sookie anywhere in the vestibule.

I follow the crowd into the sanctuary after signing the guest book. I haven't been to a funeral since I was four or five when my grandparents died. It's hard to remember much about it, so I stagger a bit, seeing the mahogany coffin at the foot of the aisle. The finality and sorrow in the atmosphere is overwhelming.

The family enters and takes spots in the front pews. From a side door, I see Hadley enter, holding the arm of a slender, young looking guy with Sookie following. My chest tightens, seeing her swollen face with tear stains seemingly etched into her cheeks. My entire being _still_ rebels against seeing her in that kind of pain. She gives Hadley a small hug before taking a seat on the aisle next to Corbett. He wraps an arm around her shoulder and she tilts her neck to rest her head on his shoulder.

**SPOV**

The minister starts the service by telling us that we need to celebrate Jason's life rather than mourn the loss of him in our lives. **Fuck. Him.** My brother did _not_ deserve to die at twenty-six. Everything he wanted to do and didn't get the chance to has the right to be mourned. We shouldn't have to celebrate all he did; we need to feel sorrow for all he could have accomplished. Damn right I'm going to mourn. There is _nothing_ about this that deserves to be celebrated.

I tune him out and think about the eulogy I'll be giving. I have been blessed with the ability to express myself clearly, put thoughts together gracefully, and I have no fear of speaking in public. But I know without a doubt that sharing my memories and sorrow with a crowd this size will be one of the hardest things I will ever do. It never has been easy to open myself up the way I will soon.

I hear the minister say my name and I come back to myself. Daddy gives my shoulder a squeeze and I make sure I have a good supply of tissues before I exit the pew. I don't really think I'll need them, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared. I've cried an ocean of tears since Saturday morning and right now, I'm numb. I make my way to the podium and take a deep breath.

I focus on the tapestries decorating the back wall of the sanctuary while I speak. I share memories that make me smile and others that create a lump in my throat that I have to swallow hard to get past. I speak for half an hour, simply doing my best to memorialize Jason appropriately.

Andre follows me, heading to the podium to speak as I return to my seat next to Daddy. Momma reaches over his lap and pats my knee with a teary smile. After Andre, several others go up to speak and share their memories of my charismatic older brother. I can't help but smile, even though I don't share the memories. Their stories help me remember my own.

People start filing out of the sanctuary as the service ends. I linger behind and ask the pall bearers to give me a moment. Running my hand over the smooth, glossy wood top of the coffin, I regret that it had to remain closed because of the damage done by the truck. I want to see him one last time but it's not possible. I press my lips to the wood and say a mental good bye to Jason, hoping that wherever he is, he's able to have as good a time as he would if he were here. I pray that he'll look in on me from time to time, not letting death separate him from his overprotective instincts. That thought make me grin, just a little. I let the pall bearers know the can do their job and I follow my family to the graveyard between my house and the Compton's home.

I start to shake as we take seats under the tent by the grave. I don't think there's any way I could have prepared myself for this and I grip Daddy's hand so hard, I'm surprised he's not wincing. I know many take comfort and solace in the minister's words of faith and healing, but I don't. My brother deserves better than a hole in the ground. He shouldn't be dead at all! "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." No offense to God, but my faith isn't going to comfort me for losing Jason senselessly. I clench my jaw and wait for the service to end. I need to get away.

Daddy, Momma, and I all place white roses atop the coffin, resting on supports above the grave that will become his home. My aunt, uncle, and cousins follow and place red roses. Other friends follow and add yellow chrysanthemums. My parents are hosting a late lunch at their house to give everyone a chance to get together and tell stories and get reacquainted. But they understand if I need some time alone before I can face a crowd like that. I need to make peace in my own mind.

As everyone drives away, I head into my house and change into simple shorts and a t-shirt. I can change back into my dress once I get back, before I go to the luncheon. I grab my purse and keys and start driving, no question in my mind where I'm heading.

**A/N: I do wonder how many people think they know where she's going. I do have a chapter banked for next week, but the upcoming week is going to be a bitch because I'm being forced into a training class that fucks up my whole schedule. *sigh* What can I do? Since I normally write while I'm taking boring-as-hell phone calls, hopefully this training thing will be just as mind-numbing and I can work some things out for what I want to do here. Thank you all for reading.**


	3. I will always have a cross to wear

**5/4/13 AN: Here's where the edits start. If you've already ready this and left a review, thanks. If you're new or rereading and didn't leave a review the first time, please do so. Really, it helps the motivation. I don't own 'em at all.**

**EPOV**

After the funeral, I leave. The burial seems like a more intimate ceremony and I don't feel my presence would be appropriate. I start the drive back to my apartment, deep in thought.

Seeing Sookie today affected me more than I thought it would when I made the decision to attend the service. Hearing her voice, reading her every emotion as each one crosses her face… I felt thrown back in time when I sat in the pew staring up at her.

There are changes, like anyone would experience in five years, but they're subtle. I would still recognize her anywhere. Her hair is shorter, around her shoulders rather than down her back, and more gold than wheat. Her figure is slightly fuller than it was when we split, but not much different from how she looked before she danced. I listen to her and in my mind, I'm eighteen again. I miss what I was like then.

I pull a U-turn at the next intersection and head towards the lake. Part of me just wants to think in a place that holds mostly happy memories. I think I'll have an easier time organizing my thoughts in the silence of the field, listening to the water lap the shore and the breeze rustling the trees. Remembering happier times seems like a good way to spend the afternoon after such a somber morning.

My mind is flashing scenes of things I'd made myself forget as I drive down the still-familiar back roads. My first "real" time with Sookie. Every time we'd been there after that. The private dance she'd given me after making the dance team. How we played in the snow that winter until our faces were numb and then went into the cabin to build a fire and warm each other up. All but one of my memories of the small, secluded field make me smile like I haven't in years.

I pull down the gravel drive and see a pearl white SUV parked in front of the cabin. I hadn't even considered that the property may have been sold. I leave my car idling in park as I step out and look around.

The SUV has Illinois plates. I turn my head and see the petite blond sitting at the end of the dock with her legs hanging over the side. I can turn and leave now without being noticed. But I don't want to. I reach in my open window and shut off the engine, loosen my tie and head slowly down the dock. "Sookie?"

She jumps and nearly falls off the dock in her surprise. "Eric?"

**SPOV**

I lean back on my elbows, relaxing with the sun on my cheeks. As I close my eyes, I flip through my mental photo album. Daddy taking Jase and I out in his boat and my brother baiting my hook for me, laughing at me for hating the worms. Jason teaching me the basics of driving a stick shift in his truck in the safety of the open field. Him helping me get the tents set up for the Girl Scout campouts. So many wonderful childhood and early teen memories of my brother take place in this peaceful area.

But memories of Jason start to get replaced by those of another tall blond. It has been a long time since I let myself think of Eric; it was easier not to. Certainly there were dreams, especially after he left town. Every now and then the growl of a Camaro or the smell of soap mixed with sweat would make my chest clench. But I pushed through it each time and forced myself to move on. Here, with the water ticking my bare toes and the sweet call of the spring birds echoing off the cliffs, I can't ignore them anymore.

It's a day for remembrance, so I allow myself. I keep my eyes closed and let my mind drift back. The feel of his arms around me, the weight of his eyes on me, the sound of his laughter all make me smile with nostalgia.

Of course, those innocent memories bring others that are less… virtuous. Dew from the grass dampening our clothes as we tossed them away. His sprinkling of chest hair tickling my breasts as he moved against me. The way he looked ethereally perfect naked in the light from the fireplace. How his almost-turquoise eyes would darken to indigo when he looked at me, at first with lust and later, with love.

I know, completely, that losing him is on me. I pushed him away. He never would have let me go. I had to force him so we wouldn't end up hating each other. I still usually feel that I was right in my decision; other times, I don't think I could have made a bigger mistake.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't hear anything. Not the birds, or the water slapping against the rocks on the shore, or even the dull thuds of my swinging legs hitting the wood of the dock. I'm so deep into my head that I'm completely startled by a deep voice saying my name questioningly.

I start to turn, wondering if I've gone crazy or become delusional in my grief or if I'm really _that_ sleep deprived. The chances that _Eric_ is standing at the end of the dock, staring at me the way he used to, like it hasn't been almost five years, has to be slim-to-none. I have to ask to make sure I'm not going insane. "Eric?"

"Yeah. What are you doing here?" He looks so puzzled.

"I think that's my line. Why are you so dressed up?" My brain is officially on the fritz.

"I was at the funeral, but left before the burial. Your speech was amazing, by the way. I was almost home when I decided that I didn't want to be cooped up in an empty apartment, so I turned around and headed here without really thinking about it. An answer to my question would be more appropriate." He cocks his eyebrow up, just like he used to whenever he challenged me.

"I couldn't handle a crowd right after the burial. I wanted a little time alone with my thoughts and memories. I really think that sitting silently beside that grave was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do." My eyes begin to well up again and I turn back toward the water.

"Sook, don't do that," he says quietly and the wood creaks under his weight as he sits down behind me. "Don't hide what you're feeling. Not here. Not with me."

At his words, the tears start flowing. I feel myself shaking with the sobs I've been repressing all day. The guilt I've felt since Saturday morning settles in my chest and makes it hard to breathe. I gasp for air and Eric runs his large hand over my back in an attempt to calm me. I manage to admit, in a shaky whisper, what I haven't been able to say to anyone else. "It's my fault. It's all my fault that my brother died. If I hadn't come home, if I hadn't gotten drunk, Jason would still be here. He's dead because of me."

Eric places his hands on my shoulders and forces me to face him. "How is this _your_ fault?"

I try to catch my breath as the tears continue to fall. "He took me out to celebrate my homecoming. He stayed sober and I… didn't. When he dropped me off, I realized that I left my purse at Merlotte's. Rather than telling me to wait until the next day, he let me go to bed since I was sleepy and took it upon himself to go get my stuff. If my drunk, forgetful ass had been more responsible, Jason wouldn't have been on the road. It doesn't matter that Bill's BAC was high enough to consider him a zombie. _**I**_ am the reason Jason was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because of _me_, I'll never see my brother again." Admitting my guilt renews my weeping and his arms go around me, lending me his strength.

It feels strange and familiar both to have Eric hold me, support me, comfort me. I let myself sink against him, resting my head on his shoulder. For a long time, he simply holds me. I exhaust myself, expelling all the remorse and grief I've held in since I got the news. I feel myself calming down and he lets me pull back. I scoot a respectable distance away and study the wood grain beneath me.

I'm chagrined to have let go like that and to have used Eric as my confessor. He doesn't need to take on that role, especially with the past that we have. It's not fair to him. But the only other person to see the emotional side of Susannah Stackhouse in years is no longer here and the reason for my current breakdown. I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment and I turn away, dipping my feet back in the water.

**EPOV**

Holding her this way is heartbreakingly familiar. Her body against mine feels right, like it always did; like she was made for me alone. Not until this moment do I realize that every woman I've been with in the past five years was a stand-in, a pitiful substitute for what I wanted and couldn't have.

I hate to admit it, especially to myself, but my feelings for her mostly stayed the same. I _do_ still love her. For a long time that love was tinged with bitterness and hurt, but time has healed most of those scars. Every single thing I originally loved about her rushed back to me as she gave the eulogy: her poise, confidence, and sense of humor. As against the mood as it may have been, I also noticed that the black dress she wore, though somber and appropriate, looked amazing on her and accentuated her best features. But seeing her now, in old jean shorts and a Wildcats t-shirt, I can _almost_ pretend that five years hasn't passed.

We're silent, just soaking in the quiet and the peace that's hard to find elsewhere. Sookie chances a glance at her watch and gasps. "Shit! My parents are going to kill me. I should have been back over an hour ago. It's too easy to lose track of time out here. I'm sorry, Eric, I have to run." She jumps to her feet with familiar agility and brushes dust off of her shorts and scrubs her cheeks of any lingering tears. "It was good to see you and I'm sorry if I ruined your shirt. I'll pay for the cleaning. Be safe getting home." She jumps into the SUV and turns around, speeding down the gravel drive.

Now alone, like I had originally hoped to be, it seems too quiet. In the heavy silence, I can't help but remember the last time I was here. I can almost feel the same humidity in the air. So clearly, almost _too_ clearly, I remember my ability to trust being shattered along with my heart. It stayed that way for longer than I thought it would. She had been the first girl I had to chase and work for. She was the first girl I allowed in. She was the first girl I actually cared about more than myself. She was the first girl I _loved_. That night, she broke my heart, but seeing her here… feeling her in my arms again… it's been a long time since something so simple felt so natural and _right_.

I head back to my car and remove my tie and jacket. After laying them in the passenger seat, I unbutton my shirt a little and head back to the dock, enjoying the afternoon warmth. Sookie had mentioned "homecoming". I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm not sure how to handle having her brand of temptation so close.

I'm not used to feeling this confusion. I don't know what to do with it. I'm glad I was able to comfort and support her when she obviously needed it. However, I'm conflicted: that amazing, beautiful, infuriatingly complex woman can get under my skin like no one else before or since; I don't know if I could handle the damage only she can cause yet again.

**SPOV**

I stop by my house to change back into my dress and fix my face before I go to my parents' house. I didn't expect Eric to appear at the lake. I really haven't had a chance to think about him since I moved back. I never thought he would show up for Jason's funeral, much less at the field afterward. It threw me to see him and once I was all cried out, I was embarrassed. That, combined with the fact that I was close to disrespectfully late for the luncheon, was why I rushed away. I'm not ready to _really_ face him.

I pull into the drive behind Daddy's old pickup. Since the melancholy mood of the day had lightened some, I was looking forward to spending some much needed time with my family. I hug Sophie and rub her bump before taking Rogan from Neave and tote him around. I pass him off to his daddy when I see Hoyt and Sam come in through the kitchen. I greet them with hugs, then gasp when I see Dee and Gary Thornton turn up the drive. After greeting my parents, who they know well after years of sleepovers, they both hug me tightly. They tell me that Tara tried to get away from New York, but with rehearsals for a new show daily, she couldn't get the time. I don't fault her and tell them so. She's still my friend and knowing she's thinking of us is enough.

We fill plates from the numerous meals and sides that were prepared by friends and neighbors. Taking spots where ever available: kitchen table, on the floor around the coffee table, or even leaning against the wall, we all share our stories about Jason. I almost choke when Hoyt reminds us of the time Jason mistook a bottle of lemon juice and peroxide I used to give my teenage self highlights in the summer for hairspray and had to go to his Homecoming dance with his hair a strange mix of orange and white. Sam reminds me of Jason conning me out of my allowance by giving me "parachute lessons" with a pillowcase and a bunk-bed. Daddy remembers him falling out of the bed of the pickup while going up a hill. He rolled to the bottom, unhurt, but scratched all over his face. Daddy told him to tell anyone who asked that he was kicked by a deer. By the gasps from Sophie and Hadley, I know he did just that and they believed him.

It's a bit of humor in the midst of the saddest day of my life. I know that the hard parts haven't ended; they're just taking a little break so we can adjust to our lives without Jason. Once the plates are clean, the meals have been split up and put away, and the guests have left, I head back to my empty house.

Mom calls later in the week to ask me a favor. She can't do it, but she knows that Jason's house needs to be cleared out. She wants me to make a start at sectioning things apart: things to throw away, things to donate, and things to keep. Since Jason didn't have any kids (and with his history, that was more luck than anything), she wanted me to put away anything that should be passed down to my kids or those of my cousins. As much as I didn't want to do it either, I know it'll be easier on me than my momma.

I make the short drive to his little bungalow in case I need the room in my SUV. It was designed for a future family and it hurts knowing of yet another experience that Jason was robbed of. I grab a bunch of trash bags and start cleaning before I start sorting.

The refrigerator and pantries get tossed for anything opened; the unopened stuff can be donated. I tidy up his living room, getting rid of any trash there and move on to his bedroom. I can tell this is the only room Jason put any motivation to keeping up and it shows by the neatly made bed and lack of clothes on the floor. I smirk to myself while I take the full bags to the street to be picked up. Dropping the tailgate of my SUV, I grab a roll of packing tape and flat boxes to pack what can be donated.

The whole kitchen gets packed. Gran left me everything there that I needed and my parents certainly don't need cheap cookware or plates and utensils. I leave the den alone; I'll let Daddy deal with the furniture and television. I don't need them, but I'm not comfortable sending the big leather sectional and fifty-five inch monster of a TV to Goodwill. I see the equipment in the entertainment center and make a note to go through his bills to see what utilities we need to cancel.

I get to his clothes and immediately claim some of his sweaters and jeans. I know they're way too big for me, but wearing his clothes has a sense of nostalgia for me. I roll my eyes finding a drawer of various women's things in his dresser: underwear, bras, random shoes. I pull all of that into another trash bag and set it by the door. I enter the closet and section off what I want and what can be donated. I find a small box in the corner that looks out of place and take it to the bed. It has my name on it, which confuses me. There's an envelope, which I open before the box. It's a letter from my brother.

_Dear Sook,_

_I know you're gonna want to kick my ass for this, which is why I'm hiding after I drop this off. You're my baby sister and one of the best friends a guy like me could ask for. I don't deserve someone as good as you in my life. So know I'm doing this for your own good._

_I've watched you grow up so much over these years. I missed you while you were in Chicago. It makes me a little sad to see you treating relationships like I have. You have never been a girl meant to play the field. You may have wanted to, but it hasn't made you happy. You were happier being with just one guy. That's the kind of girl you are and I want that for you. Don't end up like me, Sis. You deserve better._

_I know you don't want to hear it, but since you've moved back, you're getting another chance. I don't care if it's with Eric or Jake or someone else that I haven't met yet, but I think you could be amazing for any man you privilege with your presence in their life. Not that you _need_ a man, no matter what Momma says. You don't _need _anyone. Take some time to think about it and remember… don't kill me. I just care. Text me when you've cooled off enough for me to come back home._

_Love,_

_Jason_

I wipe the fresh tears from my cheeks and open the shoebox on my lap. Every single picture and memento from my almost-year with Eric is in there: the candle from Homecoming, the pressed corsage, the locket he gave me for Christmas, and a tightly banded stack of pictures. That ass must have raided my room after I left. I intentionally stashed this stuff in an old drawer in my dresser after I broke up with Eric. If I didn't see it daily, it couldn't remind me of how much I missed him.

I unband the photos and can't help but grin as I flip through them. There are posed ones, like Homecoming, his birthday, Valentine's Day, and graduation. There are also candids that I hadn't realized were being taken. Eric and I walking together in our uniforms after a game, hands clasped. Him giving me a piggy-back ride down to the pond. Me taking a bite of a chocolate covered strawberry he fed me as dessert for the birthday I had just a month before he left. I realize I don't even have to think hard to remember every single moment.

It's coincidence, right? Eric shows up at the lake after the funeral, and just days later I find this box of keepsakes with a letter from Jason urging me to give having a relationship another chance. I know Jason put this box together with the intention of dropping it off while I wasn't home and heading God-knows-where to hide. He knew my temper too well and knew I'd want to kick his ass for meddling. Now I'm glad he did. I never would have known how worried he was about me following in his footsteps. I hadn't realized that was how he saw my life in Chicago.

I pack everything back in the box and take it out to my car. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about Eric at all after seeing him again at the lake. His shell is harder, thicker, and rougher than it had been when we first met. Despite the comfort he gave me, he seems more jaded and bitter than I ever could have pictured him. I do wonder if the same guy I fell in love with is still there under the cocky façade or if the image is now the reality. I determine that I want to know, one way or the other. I want to learn who he is now and if Jason's last wish for me can come to fruition.


	4. The Devil's water, it ain't so sweet

**5/4/13 AN: Another edit/rewrite. I had to modify a big part of this chapter to make it flow more the way I wanted. Please review if you haven't yet. Don't own 'em.**

**EPOV**

Fucking Pam.

Sometimes I don't know how we are even related, much less full siblings. She has a rare desire to catch up and have dinner together, so here we sit, in awkward silence, finishing some amazing food. Small talk about our family fills some of the dead air. Dad has moved Crystal, his girlfriend of about eight years, into his apartment and almost never comes by the house anymore. Pam and I have no idea why Mom doesn't divorce his worthless ass, or at least sell the house and get something smaller since she's the only one living there now. We determine that she must have her reasons, even if she doesn't share them with us.

Pam makes me slightly uncomfortable as she tells me about her new relationship with her childhood friend, Miriam. I have no problem with my sister liking women. While it's kind of hot with other girls, I really have _no_ desire to know anything about Pam's sex life, be it with a female or a male. I cut that line of conversation off as soon as possible.

When the phone rings for Pam's nightly check-in with her girlfriend, I excuse myself and head for the bar. I picked the restaurant specifically for the bar. It's stocked with amazing microbrews and wines that are usually only available in specialty shops. I had my fill of cheap, domestic piss-water in high school and at frat parties; I like to enjoy a decent drink now and then.

I order a black and tan from the bartender and use the time to look around. A pretty dark haired girl with an unusual haircut meets my eye from the other end of the bar and gives me a coy smile before looking away. I've seen that move more times than I can count, but I'm able to keep from rolling my eyes. She may be a way to spend a few hours. I nod in her direction with a request for the bartender to refresh her drink. When she smiles to thank me, I make my way over.

Upon closer inspection, she's older than I first thought, probably mid to late thirties. Not that I've never gone there before, but she shows every second of her age and then some. I learn that Debbie is a legal assistant for a large personal injury firm downtown. We refill our drinks and continue talking ─ well _she_ keeps talking. I learn more about her than I would ever want to know. Her ex is a "stalking bastard that is hell-bent on ruining her life" after he left her for some "small town skank who doesn't even know he exists". Her boss is a "slave driver with no respect for personal time". Her mother constantly reminds her about her biological clock and nags her for grandchildren. The looks she gives me makes me want to run and hide. I fully recognize that I'm still pretty much a kid myself. I have ZERO interest in becoming an active sperm donor to a marginally hot barfly with weird hair. I need an escape!

**SPOV**

Cleaning out Jason's house was harder than I expected when I agreed to take over the job. The letter as well as the box of keepsakes and mementos hits me hard too. It brings to mind so many things I'm not in a place to examine right now.

I head out of town because I want to be alone. I rent a room in a hotel so I don't have to get back on the road; I plan on getting completely blitzed and stumbling back to my room. I need a night to forget everything.

I sit in my little corner booth sipping on my third gin and tonic and munching on some seafood nachos so I don't get too drunk too fast. I scroll through my new phone, looking at upcoming community calendar events to write about later this summer. In my peripheral vision, a blur slides in across from me and hisses softly, "Play along!"

I look up sharply and although Eric is smiling brightly, his eyes look panicked. "Susie! Oh my God, when did you get in? Why didn't you call me?" he asks a little too loudly, grabbing my hand from across the table.

I narrow my eyes at being called Susie. I then flash him a grin when I see the predatory glare of the trashy looking cougar-wannabe hanging on the bar out of the corner of my eye. I smirk and exclaim just as loudly, "I got in last night, but you never answered the phone." As softly as possible, I ask, "What part am I supposed to be playing?"

His smile widens. "You're a former cheerleader that's about to become my roommate."

We chatter back and forth, playing up our imaginary living arrangements. We each keep an eye on the bar, waiting for the tramp to get a clue. Eric and I refill our drinks twice and polish off the rest of my nachos before she throws an angry look and storms out of the bar.

As soon as she is gone, the smile drops off my face. "Susie? Really?" I ask incredulously.

He shrugs and sips his beer. "I didn't want that nut-job to know your real name. She was seconds away from asking me to father her children."

I try to stifle a giggle and fail miserably. "How long have you known her?"

He checks his watch and it makes me giggle harder. "About forty minutes."

We signal for more refills. Although the nachos did their job, I'm feeling the effects of five strong mixed drinks. But I don't want the conversation to end. I slowly sip number six and relax into getting to know Eric again.

He asks about Northwestern and I tell him about my life in Chicago, omitting certain details that I'm sure he doesn't want to know. I ask about Knoxville and he tells me about his football career, the bowl game injury, and how he still has no idea what he wants to do with his life since football is no longer an option.

We avoid the topic of Jason; I'm grateful since my goal in getting away was so I could _not_ think about him. I tell him about Tara; he mentions that Pam relocated to New York as well. I almost see the light bulb go on over his head when he asks me to wait a minute. I finish my drink while he's gone and take a sip of his. Liking the creamy flavor of the dark stout, I order one for myself while I wait.

"Pam's a bitch," Eric says when he returns several moments later, looking both confused and frustrated.

I widen my eyes, wanting more information. He takes his seat and smirks at my new beverage choice. "She drove me here. When her girlfriend called, I left the table to give her some privacy. It seems that she forgot my existence and left me here. The table is clear and her car is gone."

My thoughts skip over the fact that Pam is with a girl and agree with him. "What a bitch!" I say with an obvious slur in my voice and I chuckle at myself. I start to notice that he's swaying a little while sitting still. "You aren't driving anywhere tonight, are you?"

He cocks his head at me. "Sookie, what would I be driving?"

"Oh yeah…" I throw my head back and laugh. "I don't think I need anymore."

He gives me puppy dog eyes. "Don't think you're driving anywhere, either."

I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and show him the keycard, wiggling it between my fingers. "I'm covered. I just have to stagger two blocks and I'm good until tomorrow."

"Sook, it's late. You shouldn't walk there alone, especially in your shape. Let me walk you and I'll call a cab from there."

I think about it and nod before tipping the pint glass back to finish my drink. We both head to the bar to settle our tabs before heading out to the street. He keeps his hand on my arm, both to follow my lead and keep us both steady.

The late spring night is warm and we walk along, allowing the comfortable silence to fill the empty air. When we get to the lobby I ask him to wait while I check for messages. I told Momma and Daddy where I was going so they wouldn't worry and they know I need this time to myself. Nothing is waiting so I head to the elevator to get to my room, not realizing he would follow me all the way to the suite. I turn to him in the elevator. "You could have called a cab from the desk."

"Do you not want me in your room, Sookie?" he shrugs.

I shake my head. "I don't mind, I just wasn't sure if you thought your duty to get me here safe and sound was done."

He grins and shakes his head also. "My job isn't finished until you're in your room. I take bodyguard duty very seriously." I chuckle at him.

"I wonder how many other girls have gotten the deluxe bodyguard package," I pause at how quickly his face locks down. I pull out my keycard and unlock the door. Since he seems frozen, I tug on his arm and pull him into the suite with me.

**EPOV**

I have no idea what she's doing to me. I thought this "running-into-each-other-every-fucking-where" shit ended in high school. Hell, I eat dinner with my sister in a restaurant close to an hour away from home and _there she is_, sitting in the same fucking bar. She could have headed south, east, or west for her little drunken escape, but she had to head north. I'm grateful for the out she gave me with the Debbie chick, but I don't know how I feel about anything else.

Catching up with her is nice though. I'm surprised to discover that I'm actually interested in what her life was like in Illinois. I also like that she actually listens when I tell her about UT and doesn't just wait for her turn to talk. She's unique in that sense; she doesn't get off on the sound of her own voice like so many other girls. But it doesn't surprise me; she's always been one-of-a-kind, in every way.

I don't hesitate to offer an escort back to her hotel. Even though it's a small city, bad things can still happen to a woman late at night. My intentions are solely to see her into the lobby and use the desk phone to call a cab. Sometime in the two blocks between the bar and the hotel my plans change. There's something about her that draws me in like a moth to a flame. I try to make myself remember how that flame burned me last time, but it just doesn't seem to matter right now.

She seems surprised that I would follow her all the way to her suite. I make a random crack about guard duty and she jokes back about how many other girls had gotten the same treatment. I don't see it as a joke. Fuck… I'm sure she knows there have been other girls since we broke up, but I'm positive that she doesn't have the slightest scope of _how many_ there have been. I sure as hell don't want to know about any guys she was with in Chicago. I freeze and she has to pull me into her room.

"Sookie, I..." I stammer trying to think of what to say.

Her fingers cover my lips. "Eric, it was a joke. Just trying to break the tension as only I can… by making it worse." She turns to pull some bottles of water out of the minibar. "Drink up. I'm going to clean up and change into something more comfortable while you call that cab. The front desk will call up when it gets here. Just use this room number." She pulls a small bundle of clothes out of the overnight bag on the bed and heads into the bathroom, weaving just a little.

I make it as far as pulling out the phone book to look up cab companies. My attention is distracted by the sound of running water in the bathroom. All I can think about is the naked body just a closed door away, wet and covered in soap bubbles, smelling like peaches. My eyes lock on the bathroom door, interpreting every click of a bottle and can almost see her in my mind. After the water turns off, I can hear her brushing her teeth and preparing for bed. When she comes out in boxers and tank-top, her hair in damp waves, she shows her surprise that I'm still here. "Cab company having a long wait tonight?"

I shake my head no as I stand. "I haven't called them yet."

"Good," she replies, and takes the phone I didn't realize I was still holding out of my hand. She sets it on the kitchenette counter and turns to face me. Before I can even see it coming, she grabs my neck, pulling my face down to her level, and lays one hell of a kiss on me. I've had more kisses than I can count, but only Sookie's mouth was ever able to mold to mine this way, nipping and licking ─ I respond in kind.

When we break for air, I look in her stormy blue eyes, looking for some clue that she's trying to play me. Nothing. I don't see anything there except the lust that lights her from the inside. A lust I'm far too familiar with; a lust I haven't seen in five years. I don't see the coyness, the plotting, planning, or ulterior motives of every other girl. She waits me out patiently. I try to see her as just another girl, another fuck, another way to spend a few hours and release of tension. That's all she is.

No. No she's not.

I push her against the wall by the door harder than I intend. Her breath puffs out of her and she clings to my shoulders. I lift her by her thighs and kiss her hard. Her legs wrap around my waist like they belong there. I tangle my hand in her hair and pull, just a little, tilting her head back. My mouth attacks her neck and I feel her pulse racing under my lips.

Nothing about this is going to be slow and sweet. I want a hard, crazed fuck and by the way Sookie's pelvis is grinding against my cock, she's down with that. I pull away from her neck and grab the hem of her tank top. I debate ripping it from her body, but decide to just pull it over her head.

There they are: the most exquisite breasts I've ever seen. Her tits fill my hands perfectly. I use the weight of my body to hold her against the wall and reunite with the flawless twins that seem to beg for my attention. I twist and pluck at her dusty pink nipples until they're hard little buds under my fingertips. I dip my head and take one between my teeth, flicking it with my tongue, making her back arch off the wall and push more into my mouth. I mimic the actions with my fingers on the other side, smirking against her skin as she moans. She yanks my hair and pulls me back up to kiss me hard.

I carry Sookie to the bed, never breaking contact with her mouth. I feel the heat rolling from between her legs which are still wrapped around me. I gently toss her onto the bed and unbutton my shirt. Her eyes lock onto mine and she licks her lips. _Such a fucking turn-on_. She kneels on the bed and leans forward to give my nipples the same treatment I gave hers, scraping over them with her teeth and flicking them with her tongue.

My actions are stalled by how amazing her mouth feels so she takes initiative. Sookie reaches between us to unfasten my belt and shove my pants off my hips. She licks and nibbles her way down my body, repeating certain actions that make me moan or jump.

Her small hand wraps around my erection, stroking me with the perfect amount of speed and pressure. When her lips cover my head, it's only luck that keeps me from blowing my load immediately. I reach down and squeeze her tits as she bobs her head up and down my shaft, pinching her nipples in response to the way her tongue wraps around my head, flicking over that sweet spot at the tip. She takes more and more of me down her throat as I continue to play with her and her moans almost push me over. _No!_ I don't want it to be over, but that's completely blown to hell when she hums and takes all of me. _Jesus!_ Feeling the tightness of her throat pulsing as she swallows around me wrecks my self-control and I don't even have time to warn her before I'm coming down her throat harder than I think I've ever come before. I don't want to think about how she learned _that_ new skill.

My knees are weak and she softly giggles against me as she licks me clean. I regain control of my limbs as she kisses her way back up my body. I'm going to need some rebound time, but she won't get a time-out at all if I have my way. I watch her scramble to the opposite side of the bed, maybe to make room for me, and she shivers with anticipation from the predatory look I give her.

I pounce, knocking her back so her head is on the pillows. I'm looking down at her and she clearly has no idea what she's in for. I suck and bite down the column of her neck, savoring the sweet taste of her soft skin. I move down to her tits – God, I've missed them and it seems they've missed me just as much. I lightly brush her nipples with my fingertips, making them pucker and stand at attention.

It's not enough.

Taking one into my mouth, I begin to suckle and nip, moving down to the soft flesh on the underside of her breast. The way she's writhing beneath me threatens to make me hard again.

I shove a hand under the waistband of her boxers and pull back to stare at her, realizing she didn't put any panties on under them. She giggles and does the eyebrow thing that she used to say I did whenever I playfully questioned her. Without a word she pulls my head back down to her chest and wiggles her hips, forcing the waistband down.

I maneuver my hand between her legs and groan against her rib cage. She's so wet that the inside of her thighs are slippery She jumps when I make contact with her clit and then starts moaning each time my fingers rub up and down, stroking and pinching lightly. I need her to come. I intend to give her many orgasms tonight and the first one always sets them off like a line of dominos. I plunge two fingers inside of her slick heat and her back arches again. "FUCK! Jesus, Eric," she squeals.

My memory is spotless when it comes to Sookie and even as buzzed as I am, I know the exact spots that will push her over the edge. I curl my fingers inside of her, rubbing lightly over her sweet spot, making her knees stiffen and her thighs shake. I slip a third finger into her and drag my tongue slowly over her clit. The combination of sensations does her in and she's screaming like I knew she would.

Sookie pants heavily, trying to catch her breath. I don't let her. I'm hard again and I flip, pulling her to straddle me. After lining myself up, I thrust up into her, making her howl again. Her pussy is still throbbing from her orgasm and she clenches around me. I start slow not knowing how long I'm going to be able to last. I rub fast, tight circles over her clit, countering the hard, slow thrusts I'm making. She pinches her own nipples and it's hard to know what I want to watch more; her face as she comes, the way her hands look as they manipulate her tits, or my cock disappearing into her tight, wet entrance over and over again. I don't even realize I'm growling as she comes again. She's rocking her hips, grinding into me, extending her pleasure, despite the solid grasp I have on her hips.

I pull out, making her whimper at the temporary loss. Flipping her on her stomach, I lift her hips and run my hands over the smooth globes of her ass. I know I won't last too long once I fill her again, but I grip the perfect handles her hipbones provide and slam into without warning. I fuck her hard and deep, driving in over and over. Her screams become silent, unable to vocalize any longer as she digs her nails into the sheets. My eyes roll back in my head, feeling her velvety walls vibrating around me. I can't hold back any longer. I let go and release deep inside of her, seeing spots and roaring with relief. I have zero strength left and I collapse at Sookie's side, where she's barely conscious.

"Mmm… thanks for that…" she mumbles into the pillow and it's the last thing I hear before I pass out.

**SPOV**

Thank God the thick shades in the hotel room block the sunlight. The last time I felt like this was the morning I learned about Jason. The pounding in my head and the sensitivity of my empty stomach do nothing but bring those memories back to me in waves.

I look to my left for the source of the soft snores that initially woke me. Seeing the messy blond hair on the pillow beside me makes me groan. I massage my temples, trying to recall what I can about last night: Bar. Walk to the hotel. Shower. Blatant flirting by me. Hot as hell fucking. Passing out.

I gingerly ease out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I sit to do my business and feel the soreness and gross crustiness between my legs. Standing and twisting back and forth in front of the mirror, I see reddish blotches encircling my hip bones. They're tender when I run my hands over them and I try to remember everything Eric and I did. An aching in my back leads to a memory of being slammed into the wall. Continuing my self-appraisal, I see several hickeys on my breasts. The more I evaluate my body; sore, tender, and sensitive seem to be a running theme.

The warm spray of the shower is relaxing and soothing. I wash myself clean of the previous night's filth before sinking to sit against the wall of the tub. As much as I wanted it last night, _this_ isn't how I wanted to reconnect with Eric. I don't have anything against a night of dirty, drunken sex. However, a night of dirty, drunken sex with an ex who you have some unresolved and undetermined feelings for is a whole different animal.

I dry off and wrap myself in a towel. The first thing I see when I exit the bathroom is Eric rummaging through my purse in only his boxers. "Whoa! What the fuck, dude?" I say and wince at my own volume.

"Tylenol," he groans with a hand over his eyes. "You always carry a bottle with you. I need some."

I got into the habit of carrying it all the time with the frequent muscle aches either of us would have after practices and games. Thinking that sounds like a fucking awesome plan, I grab my pocketbook away from him to try and find my stash. I get frustrated by my lack of success and dump the contents on the bed, sifting through everything in search of my little bottle.

My eyes land on my new wallet and I remember.

Almost everything in my old purse was lost or destroyed and had to be replaced after the accident. A bottle of Tylenol hadn't been a concern when dealing with the loss of my brother. I scoop everything off the bed and shove it haphazardly back into the bag. "I don't have any right now. You can call the front desk and see if they have any."

Even hungover, he knows me entirely too well. He knows why my purse and its contents had to be replaced thanks to my confessional breakdown at the lake. When he gives me a sympathetic look, it's absolutely the last thing I want. So I deflect and change the subject.

"Get some for me too. I think you were trying to break me last night," I say it lightly, with a smirk, but his face shows no humor at the statement.

He looks up sharply and his eyes widen as he takes in my appearance. Hotel towels are tiny and the tops of my boobs and one hip are clearly on display… as are some of the bruises and hickeys. "Oh, _fuck_! Sookie─"

"It doesn't bother me." I interrupt his apology by waving my hand to hush him. "I'm just a little sore since it's been awhile. I'm not complaining."

Eric's expression is still decidedly unhappy. I roll my eyes and call the front desk myself. I add a pot of coffee and a carafe of orange juice to the request for Tylenol. We get dressed in the fifteen minutes of awkward silence that it takes for the tray of beverages and precious pain reliever to be delivered. I place the juice and a glass in front of Eric and pour myself a mug of coffee. I pop a couple of the pills before handing the bottle over and sitting across from him. "Now we get to have the uncomfortable discussion."

He swallows his pills and barks out a laugh. "What part of this _isn't_ uncomfortable?"

I roll my eyes and lean back. "Good point. Anyway, it was pretty clear when I woke up that we didn't use a condom. Do I have anything I need to worry about?"

He doesn't even have to think before he shakes his head. "I was tested regularly at school and at post-surgery check-ups. I'm clean. Are you still on the shot?"

I nod my head and force the next question. "Has there been anyone since you were last tested?"

More hesitantly, he nods his head. When he opens his mouth, I shake my head to cut him off. "I don't want to know who or how many. I had everything run when I had my last checkup and I haven't been with anyone since then. Just to be on the safe side though, I'm going to get checked again."

He nods, not looking offended in the least. _Hmm, that went smoother than I expected_. I finish my mug, refill it, and drain it again before setting it aside. Looking around, I collect my pajamas and fold them to put away in my overnight bag. I feel his eyes follow me as I collect my things from around the room. He clears his throat to get my attention and I look over at him curiously.

"Are we really not going to talk about this?" he asks.

"What is there to talk about, Eric? We were drunk and horny and took advantage of a king-sized suite. I'm not sure what you were expecting. I'm pretty sure you're not in a place where you want to start with me again. I'm certainly not ready to be with anyone right now. I have too much to deal with. I start a new job next month. I'm still unpacking. I totally expected to feel like shit this morning, but I thought I'd be doing it alone." I let my eyes scan the room for anything I might be forgetting before they land back on my ex. "We've always been great there," I say, nodding my head toward the ball of tangled sheets on the bed, "But you know as well as I do that our communication skills suck. I'm trying here. What do you think we need to talk about?"

He pulls on the t-shirt he neglected earlier and shrugs. "You don't even realize you do it, do you? You use everything going on in your life to avoid talking about anything emotional or outside your comfort zone. You know perfectly well what we need to talk about."

I don't do that and it gets my hackles up to be accused of doing so. "That's ridiculous," I scoff back at him.

"Would you like two prime examples? How about 'I have drama, the newspaper, the dance team, and SATs. I won't have time for a boyfriend'. How about "You're going to be too busy at college and we're going to be too far away to even try to stay together'. Of course, I'm paraphrasing, but they're your sentiments, if not the exact words," he says with that damn adorable, infuriating cocked eyebrow.

I think about his words and, of course, I don't even have to struggle to know what he's referring to. "Shit… I _do_ do that sometimes, don't I?"

"Sometimes. For a while we got to where you would actually talk to me, but you pulled away after graduation. I missed you like crazy… before I got too busy to notice." I can't help but smirk, hearing him admit that part of my reasoning might have been dead on. "Don't get too cocky, _Susannah_," he says softly, making me shiver a little. "Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

**EPOV**

I stare at her. I may have felt eighteen again last night, but the Sookie in front of me has definitely grown up if she can admit what I saw as one of her worst flaws, even in high school. I watch her fidget and I realize that neither of us really had the best decision-making skills last night. "I know you said there hasn't been anyone else… are you single," I ask. I don't really know _why_ I'm asking. Maybe just hoping to keep my own conscience clean.  
She rolls her eyes again, but gives me a small smile. "I don't cheat. Never have and don't plan on starting now. What about you? Again, I don't want any specific details, but are there any crazed girlfriends looking to rip out my hair?" When I shake my head, she sighs a breath of relief. "No offense, but that is really the last thing I want to deal with. Go ahead and gather up your things. I need to check out."

She leans against the spot I slammed her into last night and waits for me, her arms crossed over her chest. I grab my phone from the counter and my wallet from the floor where it fell out of my jeans. I do a quick mental inventory of the few possessions I brought with me as I pull on my shoes. Looking around to confirm that I have everything, I nod to Sookie and stand, ready to leave.

In the lobby, I step away to call Pam to make her pick me up while Sookie checks out. I don't care if I wake her up. If her meddling ass had pulled me out of the bar when she was ready to go last night, none of this would have happened. I actually don't know whether to deck her or thank her.

I look over at Sookie as she finishes her transaction, sliding a credit card back in her wallet and putting on some of the darkest sunglasses I've ever seen. She steps toward me and places a soft, quick kiss on my cheek before heading out the door.

"Whaaaat?" whines a sleepy voice, half-muffled by what I assume is a pillow.

"Doesn't your nosy ass want to know why I'm calling?"

She groans. "I assume you stopped fucking Random Bar Hag and want me to pick you up so you don't have to ask her for a ride and let her find out where you live."

It's nice to remember that she's a snarky smartass even when she's mostly unconscious. "Not quite." If she didn't know I was with Sookie, I wasn't going to tell her. "What you need to pay attention to is this. Either your prissy powder blue Mini is going to be pulling up in front of the Patrick Henry Hotel in sixty minutes or less or you're going to be on the hook for my cab fare. Last I heard it was around eighty dollars, but gas prices have increased since then. It's only fair since you ditched me. What's more precious, Pam? Your time or your money?" I take a seat in one of the cushy, overstuffed armchairs scattered around the lobby and wait for her answer.

"Ugh! Fine! I'll be there in a little while," she grumbles. I don't buy it.

"One hour, Pam. At minute sixty-one, I'm in a cab whether you're on your way or not. No excuses. I won't answer the phone if you call before," I check my watch and wince at the time, "nine forty-seven." I am not in the mood to deal with her procrastination. If she's going to make it on time, she needs to get out of bed and moving now.

"Dick," she growls and hangs up on me. I'm okay with that.

I lean back and relax for my hour wait. I think about how my night was spent and I can't help but wish I remembered more. The hickeys and bruises I can't recall leaving shame me, despite her earlier assurances that she's fine. I don't get that rough during sex. I definitely _don't_ leave marks. At least, I never have _before_.

What was it about the only ex-girlfriend I've ever had that made me so uncontrolled? Then again, she'd affected me like that from the moment I met her. We have both changed so much since then… haven't we?

I wish last night didn't happen the way it did. If it was going to happen at all, why the fuck did it have to be when neither of us were sober enough to fully appreciate or even _remember_ it?

I spend enough time mind-fucking myself that I get shocked by a hand smacking me across the back of my head. "Your ride is here, dickhead. Move that giant ass of yours so I can go back to sleep."

Ah, Pam. My sister is a paragon of grace and manners.


	5. The more I do, the less I know

**5/4/13 AN: Another edit/rewrite. It's getting trickier, but I think I'm getting the flow to where I want it. I have a few more chapters to work on. Hope re-readers are approving of the new direction. Enjoy the new ride. Don't own 'em in the slightest.**

**SPOV**

I drive into town to meet with the director of Parks and Rec. I may not start writing my column until next month, but it doesn't hurt to get some easy prep work done. With the population boom my little town has seen in the past few years, a lot of things have changed. Instead of being held monthly, the beach parties at the lake have increased to every two weeks. My meeting is to get a line-up of acts that will be performing as well as some details on other events that the department plans to hold over the summer.

A very nice woman named Diane greets me at the office. I pull out my little notebook and go over the questions. I get information for events at the lake and parks from Memorial Day to Labor Day, then schedule another meeting to get information about fall events.

When the meeting is over, I grab a quick lunch from the nearest drive-thru so I can be on time for my appointment with Dr. Ludwig. Her nurse told me to come in when I got a chance and she'd squeeze me in. I'm not really worried, but I figure it's better to be safe than sorry.

I think about the situation I'm in. I don't regret my night with Eric, but I wish some things had been different. I wish I hadn't been drunk. I hadn't had that experience until I was in Chicago and learned the hard way that my decision making skills suffer when I drink. I wish _he_ hadn't been drunk. I knew from high school that while he was fairly happy and goofy after a few beers, he was a bear with a hangover. Our few fights when we were together were usually after he had partied a little too hard and woke up feeling like shit.

When my name is called, I head back to the exam room. I explain to the nurse why I'm there and renew my information on file since I've been seeing a doctor in Illinois for the past four years. Dr. Ludwig hasn't changed a bit since I saw her for the first time when I was fifteen. She greets me warmly but professionally. She shows no reaction when I tell her why I need testing, even though I'm internally cringing and know my face is beet red. I endure the invasive swab and blood draw; I'm told I'll get the results in a few days.

Once the nurse gives me the okay, I get redressed and make an appointment for my next shot before heading home. After I park, I see the message light blinking on my phone when I plug it into the charger. I hit the speaker button and entering my mailbox code so I can listen to the message while I get dinner ready.

"Hey Pumpkin, it's Momma." That always makes me chuckle; she announces herself on every message like I haven't known her voice for almost twenty-two years… even if I didn't have call ID. "I wanted to let you know that your Daddy and I met with the Commonwealth Attorney earlier today. She told us that Bill pled 'not guilty' at his arraignment and wanted to know if we would agree to her pursuing a plea agreement for reduced time to avoid a trial. We wanted to talk to you first, honey. You're just as affected by this as we are. Give me a call when you get a chance. Love you, baby."

I feel my appetite disappear and I try to think rationally. A plea would guarantee that Bill would be punished and we wouldn't have to deal with court and the bullshit of a trial. But I _hate_ the thought that Bill would get off easy for his stupidity and recklessness. I don't want to call my parents before I think everything through.

Normally Jason would be who I call when I need help working through choices. I find it ironic that his help is what I long for with this decision. I think about calling Tara, but as an only child, I don't know how much advice she can give me. I scroll through the contacts on my phone and get an idea, hit the button to call, and wait for an answer.

"Hey Sook. You caught me on a break. What's going on? I have about twenty minutes."

"Hey Had. I need to talk to someone. You mind wasting your break on me?"

For the next twenty minutes I debate the pros and cons of plea versus trial. My cousin doesn't contribute much beyond a sympathetic ear, but knowing she loves her brother and she looks up to Andre the same way I did Jason makes me feel as though she can understand my dilemma. Ultimately, I decide that reduced time would be better than nothing, which was always a chance with a jury.

I thank Hadley for her time and let her get back to work. Forcing down a sandwich because I need to get back to eating normally, I head back out to my car to drive to my parents' house. The drive is short and I don't have a lot of time to drive into my own head to overthink things before I pull into their driveway.

The only people who could possibly feel the loss worse than I do answer the door. It hurts to see the pain on Momma's pretty face and in Daddy's blue eyes, the same eyes that Jason and I both inherited. I hug them tightly and sit across from them in the living room.

We talk a long time about the options that the Commonwealth's Attorney has. She doesn't have to consult us about her decision, but this is a small, close-knit community and everyone is involved in everyone else's lives through various degrees of separation. Portia Bellefleur graduated a couple of years ahead of Jason before heading to Duke. We decide to ask her to try to get Bill to agree to a plea for reduced time, just so we don't have to deal with the madness that a trial would guarantee.

Daddy says he'll make an appointment with her or one of the assistant attorneys. We part for the evening feeling exceptionally worn out emotionally.

I enter my dark and silent home feeling totally drained and completely lonely. I warm some milk in the microwave and pull a tin of hot chocolate mix out of the pantry. It's almost too warm for it, but I sip the mug hoping and praying it will help me sleep.

**EPOV**

After my drunk night with Sookie, I've decided not to do what I did last time and try to fuck her out of my head. The more I think about that morning, the more I wonder about our conversation. Her body still fits mine so perfectly. She still challenges my mind and my stamina. She still has the attitude and sass that infuriates me and turns me on. She still doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks and goes for what she wants. Everything about her is _still_ fucking arousing.

I grab a beer from the fridge, trying to keep from thinking. The eighteen-year old kid I was five years ago would be disgusted with me. But that cocky little shit had football in his future, Sookie by his side, and love in his life. I know I've fucked up somewhere, but God only knows if I'm able to fix it. Even if my goals for my future dissolved in the blink of an eye less than six months ago, there's nothing to say I can't get a new dream.

I'm spooked out of my skin when my phone starts vibrating on the nightstand. The number isn't in my contact list; it has a 312 area code. That's not familiar to me. I don't answer unknown calls, so I hit Ignore and wait. If it's important, whoever it is will leave a message.

I finish my beer and when I get back from taking out the trash, the green message light is blinking. I hit the speaker button to listen to the voice mail.

"Shit… I didn't know… umm… Hey Eric. It's Sookie. I didn't think you'd have the same number. Umm… I just," I hear her sigh into the phone. "Uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for being out of touch since… well… you know. Since it seems like we're destined to keep running into each other, do you think we could start over?" She gasps and stammers, "Shit, not like that… umm… just like a clean slate. Maybe? Damn this is hard over the phone. Umm, if you're interested, give me a call back. You should have my number now. Otherwise, we can just… shit… uh, just call me, okay? So… bye."

I have never heard Sookie so inarticulate or nervous. I don't really know what to make of it. I debate myself for so long, I don't know if I should call her back because of the late hour. Finally figuring Sookie had always been a night owl, I take my chances.

It rings several times and I'm about to hang up when I hear a breathless "Hello?"

"Hey Sook. I got your message," I tell her, reclining to lay across my sofa.

I can almost hear her blushing. It makes me grin. "Yeah, sorry about my babbling. I know things were weird and awkward waking up the way we did a couple of weeks ago. I wanted to call you before tonight, but I thought for sure you had a different number and there really isn't anyone I could call… well, anyone I _want_ to call… to ask. So I took a chance."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Believe it or not, but I think I got the gist of what you said. Do you really think that with our history we could even have that 'clean slate'?"

She sighs. "I know it sounds crazy because we weren't _really_ friends first last time. But I want to think that we've grown up since high school." Her throat clears and I can picture her running her fingers through her hair, tugging on it like she used to when she was tense. "I'm going to be mature about this, because I know I can be a brat. I own that. But if you're willing to overlook some of my worst moments, I'd like to get to know you again."

I'm speechless. Not only is Sookie admitting she has a weakness, but she seems willing to overlook mine. I can't help but be wary; she'd never had an issue with outing out my shortcomings before. God knows I have even more of them now. Moments of uncomfortable silence pass before I can think of what to say. "Do you think we can even be friends? So much as happened…" I trail off. I don't have female friends. I never have. There are girls I socialize with and spend various amounts of time with, but I would never call them "friends". It's a strange concept to imagine. "Sookie, why do you even want to be friends with me?"

Again, she sighs before answering and I can't tell if it's from weariness or frustration. "Honestly, it's not something I would have considered before I moved back. If I had just seen you around town instead of right after Jason's funeral, I probably would have been a great big chicken and avoided you, thinking things would have been too awkward." She huffs a small laugh and continues. "I can't really explain my thought process so it makes sense to anyone else, but…" she sniffles. Shit, is she crying? Her tears affect me more than I care to admit; only once was able to hold strong and not care when she cried. "Eric, this would be a whole lot easier if I could talk to you face to face. Do you mind if I come over?"

I remember how I felt earlier: jealous of myself when I was eighteen. _She_ was the reason I felt on top of the world then. _Hers_ was the approval I sought the most. _Her_ opinion mattered more to me than anyone else's. Maybe if I crack a little, I can work on becoming something of a better person. Granted, it's a purely selfish reason for renewing any kind of relationship with her, but a lot of new feelings have made themselves known since we left the hotel. Realizing I have been silent for far too long, I speak up. "Sorry. Yeah, sure, come on over. We _do_ need to talk."

I give her the directions to my place and hang up. Glancing around, I check to see if anything needs to be cleaned or put away. I've never been a slob, but it's not unheard of for a "guest" to leave something behind for a reason to return. I know it will take her at least half an hour to get here, so I use the time to think of ways this "friendship" thing could possibly work between us.

**SPOV**

I don't bother to dress up. I stay comfy in yoga shorts and one of Jason's old t-shirts. I know from his address that unless every light is in my favor and I run ten over the speed limit the whole way, it'll take me about forty-five minutes to get there. Taking a deep breath, I steel my nerves and start driving.

When I get to his street, I look over the rows and rows of identical condos. These are new; this development didn't exist five years ago. I seek out #685 and park in a free spot painted with his unit number. I see what I'm parked to and roll my eyes at myself: I should have just looked for the Camaro. I lock the car and knock on the door.

When he answers the door, he gives me a smile, but I can't help but notice that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. I try to smile back, but I can tell my attempt is weak. He gestures for me to come in and I do, mentally berating myself to stay strong.

My mental voice falters and fades away when I take in what he's wearing or, more accurately, what he's _not_ wearing. His dark blue jeans ride low on his sips and his chest is bare. _Oh. Fuck. Me._ With deliberate force, I move my eyes back up to his face. His tense smile has changed to cocky smirk and I know he caught my distraction. _I know he did this shit on purpose_. I resolve to keep my eyes above his shoulders and try to remember why I wanted to talk to him in person.

"Have a seat," he offers, waving me toward a huge sofa as he sits in a leather recliner. "What would be easier said face-to-face rather than over the phone?"

"Jeez, thanks for easing me into conversation with a little small talk, Eric," I mutter softly and watch his smirk grow. I raise my voice back to normal speaking level. "Like I said, I'm sorry for being out of touch. I've just been thinking a lot about how everything was left unresolved after _that night_."

He looks thoughtful. "Sook, to be fair, I don't really know you anymore. I guess I owe you an apology too; to be fair, you're not the only one who knows how to work a phone. I just wasn't really sure what you wanted, even if I knew your number."

"Apology accepted. I know this sounds strange, but I really do want to get to know you again. With Tara in New York, my cousins scattered all over the place, and Jason…" I can't help the lump I get in my throat just mentioning his name. I swallow hard and shake my head, moving on. "Anyway, you were right earlier: we weren't friends first last time. We were acquaintances at best before we started sleeping together. Besides, we are both different people now. I liked talking to you at Montano's before the whole hotel thing. I guess what I really want to know is if we take sex out of the equation, would you even be interested in seeing if we can be friends?"

As much as I'm fully aware I want him and that our physical chemistry hasn't suffered in the least, I don't want sex to overshadow everything else. I want to be sure to take "benefits" off the table at the start or fuck buddies will be all that becomes of my attempt to reconnect with the last person in my life who really remembers what I used to be like. I don't know if it was our night together or Jason's letter to me or seeing all the mementos of our relationship or some weird combination of things I haven't even thought of, but I want to get to know him again, for the man he is today.

"No sex?" Eric sounds incredulous (and a little offended) and I have to cough to hide my laugh. "Really? No sex?" I nod and try to get my serious face back on. "I guess it's worth a try. Just friends though, right? I'm free to see and date whoever I want, just like you would be." I nod again. Friends first is my goal. Get to know him better and see if anything of who I fell in love with is hidden in there somewhere. "Yeah, I think we can try." I finally get to see a non-smirking, genuine smile for the first time in a _very_ long time.

"Okay. Good. Maybe we can hang out sometime this week, but I need to get going if I don't want to fall asleep at the wheel." Maybe it was silly of me to drive all the way out here for a twenty minute conversation, but I wanted to have this talk and watch his face. He may seem stoic and unemotional, but _I know him_. His ticks and tells haven't changed. He's willing to attempt a non-benefits friendship, but is doubtful as to whether either of us can keep it up. I stand and he follows, opening the door for me. I give him a quick hug before hurrying to my car because I don't want him to see… My tells are just as obvious as his are…

I know without a doubt that I want him back.


	6. Open up and start revealing

**5/4/13 AN: I didn't change a lot in this chapter because this was more in the vein of what I wanted. As always, even thought I've neglected it in the past few notes, MissyDee is my personal Godsend, betaing and helping my flow. I give her a little shout-out later. I still don't own them. Wish I did.**

**SPOV**

I take my handy tablet/camera and head for a local wine festival being held at a large bed and breakfast near the lake. My editor thinks that a weekly article focusing on local vineyards would be good with tourist season in full swing. My laminated press pass on a lanyard around my neck gets me a free tasting glass. Beyond that, more of the vintners and winery owners are willing to take the time to speak with me to schedule tastings and tours; after all, they're getting free publicity.

The funniest thing about the festival is the effect of discounted wine combined with summer heat. There are pockets of people on the lawn, laying on towels or blankets, hands clasped around their glass or bottle, completely passed out in their sundresses or khakis. I made sure to eat a nice, starchy lunch before I left the house, so while I feel a nice buzz, passing out under a tree is not in my future.

As I walk from one vendor to another, I literally run into a blue polo-clad wall. Hard. Rubbing my squashed nose gingerly, I look to see a tan face smirking down at me. "Walk much, Sook?"

I roll my eyes as I step back, eyes watering a bit. "Ow. You try sampling twenty different wines in ninety degree heat and we'll see if your coordination is still perfect."

Eric chuckles and nods his head in agreement. "Touché. Are you covering the festival for the paper?"

"Yeah, I'm starting a summer series covering the local wineries and vineyards while the tourists are still around." I start to wander toward the booth I purposely saved for last. "You never really struck me as a wine fan though. What are you doing here?"

Shrugging he looks around before following my meandering steps. "It's a nice day and I didn't have anything else to do. I figured 'Why not?'."

Being friends with Eric is… _weird_. There aren't many things that we can do together that don't feel like a date. Movies, dinner, even just hanging out… all of it feels just too similar to the things we did in high school. But I refuse to give up; I'm starting to see glimpses of the Eric I used to know.

The first thing we do together that doesn't smack of teenaged dating is purely coincidental and unscheduled. We walk up to a booth with an awning for shade over the serving area. Using a cooler of water, we rinse our glasses and wait for our turns. Our souvenir, etched wine glasses are given generous samples for tasting and this particular winery has at least fifteen different wines made from different fruits at their on-site orchard. I fall in love with the peach wine and Eric, surprisingly, decides to get a bottle of apple-pepper wine. While he pays for his, I schedule an on-site tasting and interview for later in the month and take some general information about the orchard for background. I pay for my bottle, make a note to come back later to get some gifts, and head with Eric to sit in the grass under a huge oak tree.

"So how has your summer been so far?" he asks as we settle in the shade. "It seems like it's been awhile since I've seen you."

"I just got back in town earlier this week. I had to get away for a little while, so I went to New York for my birthday and spent some time with Tara. When she had practice or rehearsals, I would either stay and watch or head out to play tourist. I hadn't seen her since before I left Chicago, so that time with her was just what I needed."

He looks thoughtful. "I think it's amazing that you two have stayed friends for so long. I can't think of a single person that I grew up with that I can still call a friend."

Shrugging, I open my bottle and fill my glass. "I'm lucky. If our moms hadn't forced us into Girl Scouts at the same time, I don't think Tara and I would have met. We went to different elementary schools and our paths wouldn't have crossed as we got older. She has her dancer friends up there and I made friends at Northwestern, but no one knows me better than Tara except…" I sip my wine and clear my throat before moving on. "I think she and I will always be friends, regardless of time or distance."

Shaking his head, Eric looks at me in what I can only describe as disbelief. "I envy you. I wish I had someone in my life like that. Someone who knows you inside and out and accepts you, faults and all, and expects nothing but that same acceptance in return. I think you may have been the last person in my life that I'm not blood-related to that didn't want to use me for anything. You just wanted me for me."

I don't know what to say to that. I'm suddenly sad. Sad for him to have only known unconditional friendship from me alone. I decide to remind him of what it's like while we rekindle our friendship.

**EPOV**

Wine makes me fucking moody and entirely too honest. I've never been a fan of it, preferring beer or liquor, but I was tired of sitting at home doing nothing. While driving around I saw the signs for it, and like I told Sookie, I had nothing better to do.

The wine I purchase is strangely refreshing and spicy at the same time. I sip it leisurely, looking around the lawn, smirking at the clumps of people passed out thanks to the combination of humid summer heat and massive amounts of alcohol. It amuses me how sloppy people will allow themselves to get at "proper" functions like these.

Being "just friends" with Sookie is harder than I thought it would be. If we had been friends before getting involved as kids, maybe there would have been something to build on. But we weren't. Every fucking thing we try to do together feels like our high school dates, except we don't have sex before, during, or after. Until today. Sitting under a tree at an antebellum B&B drinking wine and talking is like nothing we have done before.

Buzzed Sookie is funny. She never drank in high school, which confused me since she got stoned. She's more relaxed and only loses her crooked grin if something reminds her of Jason. But in the breezy shade of the oak, the atmosphere and conversation is comfortable and surprisingly easy.

Sipping her peach wine (why doesn't _that_ flavor surprise me?), she's thinking. The look she gets on her face when her mind is racing hasn't changed. Its a few minutes before she says what's on her mind. "Have you thought about what you want to do now that school is done? I know you've said you were drifting a little since playing football isn't an option anymore, but…" She looks up at me with genuine concern. "I've had some thoughts if you're willing to listen with an open mind."

Christ, not another one. Mom, Pam, even my mostly-absentee Dad have felt it their duty to give me life advice. I have no desire to go back to school (Mom), pursue modeling (Pam), or take an internship under one of his many "associates" (Dad). However, Sookie has always had the tendency to think creatively and may have some ideas that I hadn't considered. Intrigued at what her mind could have come up with, I nod for her to continue.

"Okay, so my friend Missy gained some weight while she did her internship. When she moved back to Cali, she joined a gym and hired a personal trainer. From what she tells me, he's kind of a dick sometimes and says 'fuck' more than any other person she's ever met, but he motivates and pushes her when she needs it. She's already lost the Chicago weight plus some. With your athletic background, you'd be a great trainer." Her satisfied smile lights up her face.

The idea has merit, but I know me. I don't have the patience to motivate or coddle anyone who can't push themselves to meet their goals on their own. I guess my face shows that and she moves on to her next suggestion.

"Well… so the NFL lost out on you because of your injury, but have you thought about coaching? Even at a high school level? Think about how you would have benefitted with direction from someone like you when you were playing. Just as a mentor or trainer, I think kids would listen to a guy like you, not much older than them, with the experience of playing big-league ball. Maybe not professionally, but you became well-versed in what it takes to hold your own in the NCAA."

_That_ idea starts me thinking. I may not be able to pamper or encourage individuals, but boys, football players, kids… I can do that. If they want indulgence and pandering, they're in the wrong sport. Coaching, training, or mentoring may be something I can excel at. I start to feel the excitement of pursuing a goal that I haven't felt in far too long. "Damn! Where were you three months ago? I had to listen to Pam pressure me to get headshots while she was in town and I still have to deal with Mom mailing me course catalogs for every community college in the state."

She giggles, and I wonder how much of it is the wine. "Headshots?" she chokes out.

I join her chuckles and tell her Pam's "brilliant" idea of getting me to pose in Jockeys on a 5-story billboard in Times Square. "Can I tell you how creepy it feels to have you _sister_ make that suggestion?" I shudder playfully and see her smile.

"It's funny. I can honestly say that Jason would have _NEVER_ made that suggestion. He always wanted me as covered as possible." Her smile dims slightly, but doesn't disappear. "He hated our dance uniforms. He didn't know how you guys were able to function at the beginning of the second half after the 'flesh show'. He said that he was lucky he never had to will away a hard on at the end of half-time like he was sure you guys did."

Oh God. I'd made myself forget, but those tight, sinful dance team uniforms were the inspiration of many fantasies I'd had during football and basketball season. Jason had been right: the first play at the beginning of the third quarter was always "tense". Trying to move away from those kinds of memories, I try to change the subject without being obvious. "Did you get different uniforms your senior year?"

Sookie shakes her head, looking down. "I don't know. I kind of became a hermit. I quit the dance team and only worked at Merlotte's on the weekends. I spent most of my time cramming as many AP classes into my schedule as possible to get through some of my prerequisites and completing that coursework. I didn't go to any games or parties. I got pretty boring."

I want her to look up. "You didn't go on dates or hang out at parties? No camp-outs with Tara?"

"Uh-uh. Nothing like that. No dates. Tara and I would hang out occasionally, but it was more like study dates since she was taking some of the same AP classes that I was. No camping, no smoking, no partying… I was kind of depressed." She's almost whispering and I have to strain to hear her.

I think about what she's told me and I realize that she was withdrawn because of our breakup. Selfish as it is, I never thought about how it affected her. I remember how she cried when I left her in the field. Not for the first time, I wonder if we would have lasted if we had stayed together after I left for Knoxville. Or would what she feared have happened. Would the time and distance have ruined us?

Wanting a time out from the suddenly heavy conversation, I stand. "The kitchen is serving some heavy appetizers. I'm going to place an order so we can soak up some of the wine before we have to leave. I'll be back in a bit." The afternoon has passed into early evening, but it's still quite bright since sundown doesn't come in the summer until around nine. I wait in line to place an order and head back to the tree with several steak skewers and mozzarella bites. She smiles when I sit back down and place the foil-wrapped bundles between us. She hands me a bottle of water to help flush the wine from our systems.

She plays silently on her tablet while we eat. She gives a little cheer when she finds what she is looking for and hands me the tool. An ad for "Assistant Athletic Trainer" is on the screen and she gestures for me to read.

While it mainly deals with evaluating injuries and referring proper courses of action for their resolution, the applicant should also be able to create strength, conditioning, and workout regimens for the different teams and positions. While I admittedly don't know a lot about the needs for sports like soccer or baseball, I know sports in general. I look over the ad further and see the position if for a school I played against when I was in high school, which happens to be closer to where I live now than my alma mater. I have her send the link to my phone so I can follow up on it once I get home. The excitement from earlier only increases.

We chat while we finish up the food. While I take care of getting our wrappers to the trash, Sookie heads back to the last booth we visited to buy some bottles she wants to give or send out as gifts. I recork my bottle and hers while I wait for her to return. She shows up carrying a case of ten bottles and I smirk. "What? I have a lot of people I want to send gifts to and they're on sale at the festival. I'm taking advantage!"

We head slowly back to the parking lot the head home, fully sober after the water and food. She places her case and gigantic purse in the passenger seat of her SUV and circles around to the driver's side. "I'm glad I ran into you today. This was more fun that I thought it would be when I was riding solo."

But I'm not ready for the time to end. I don't want to leave yet. I want more. I always do with her.

**SPOV**

I have my door open and I'm ready to get in, but I can't bring myself to. The Eric sitting under the tree with me was more like _my_ Eric, the one I hadn't seen in five years. It confirms my suspicions that he is still in there, just hidden under a haze of bitterness and disappointment. That wall started to crack a little bit in the shade earlier. I lean in to put my keys in the ignition, but don't turn it on. I close the door behind me and lean against it. "Thanks for keeping me company today."

Eric leans against my back door next to me. "No thanks necessary. I probably would have left hours ago if I hadn't run into you. It was fun."

I try to think of something "friendly" to leave on. "Don't forget to follow up on that position. Football training starts at the beginning of August, so they'll want to have someone hired soon."

He laughs. "Sook, don't you think I know when football practice starts?"

I feel my cheeks heat with a blush, grateful the sky is darkening so it's not as obvious. "Yeah. Sorry."

The car shakes as he shifts his position, turning to face me rather than leaning against the door. "Why did we _really_ break up, Sookie? I remember all too well what you told me that night, but I don't think it was that at all. At least, not entirely. What brought on all those doubts?"

I sigh and look up at the sky, focusing on the streaks of pink and purple as the sun sets. "Why does it matter now? It was five years ago. I've changed since then, and so have you. What do my stupid reasons as a seventeen year old kid have to do with what we're doing now?"

"Humor me," he says softly, turning my face toward him with a finger on my cheek.

I try to recall my dumbass reasoning from the summer and take a deep breath. "Trust," I say shortly.

He jerks back and his eyes harden. "You didn't trust me?"

"Fuck. No, that wasn't it. There were only a few people I trusted more than you. I didn't trust _me_."

"You thought you would cheat on me?"

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. "No. Not everything is about sex. Shit, listen to the fucked up reasoning of a seventeen year old _kid_ with virtually no relationship history before you. The first boyfriend I ever had left after we had been together for only two or three months. I didn't love him, but it was still sad. Then you came into the picture. You pursued me in exactly the right way and convinced me to give you a chance. And I'm so happy that you did, because I have so many good memories of that summer and the following year. Knowing that you were leaving was breaking my heart, but I knew you had to so you could pursue your dream, just like I knew I would have to head to Chicago to do the same.

"Eric, I was just a small town girl with limited experiences. I had a goal that I needed to focus on. I didn't trust that I could dedicate myself to my classes and degree _and_ you at the same time. I didn't trust that **I** would be able to keep focus. I didn't trust that I could do everything and not fail at something. I didn't trust myself to prioritize and be able to choose what was best for my future over what I wanted most at the moment.

"I didn't have to ability to word my fears so concisely that summer. I didn't know how to explain that I was scared that I would lose sight of goals I'd had for as long as I can remember. Was I scared that you would suddenly be the Big Man on Campus and forget about me? Yeah, a little. Any girl would have had those fears. But that wasn't why I broke things off. I wanted to let you focus on your goals and give me the space to follow my dream."

He sighs and looks up at the ever darkening sky. "Do you know how different things could be if you had explained things like that to me then instead of the excuses you gave me that night?"

My brow furrows, trying to think about what he said. "How would things be different? You were going to Knoxville to play ball; I was heading to Northwestern to write. We would have had virtually no time together, even if we were able to travel on a whim. In my four years in Chicago, I came back exactly six times. You had obligations with your team and I wouldn't have wanted you to put me over those."

"You never gave me the choice! You gave me this cowardly shit about finding people we wanted to be with more and how we would end up resenting each other. You never even gave us the chance to find out if we could work, _despite_ the distance." Even in the gloom of the sinking sun, I can see his blue eyes blazing when he turns to look down at me. "You broke my heart that night. Fuck, Sookie, we could still be together, hell, even married if you had been brave enough to give us a chance to try."

I know he loved me. I had loved him more than I'd known I was capable of. "I was a fucking _kid_, Eric. How the fuck was I supposed to know that?" Yeah, I'm fully aware it's a lousy excuse, but I'm still reeling that he said "married". "I don't know what you want from me now. What do you want?"

Apparently his turn to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't know. It doesn't change anything, you were right. It's the past. Knowing the reasons behind a decision doesn't change the choices made because of it."

"That's why I didn't want to get into it," I mumble.

"Did you give your boyfriend up at Northwestern some bullshit excuse too?" he asks, his voice laced with undisguised bitterness.

"Eric, I can tell you with one hundred percent honestly that _you_ are the last boyfriend I've had… still."

His head snaps up in surprise. "No one?"

My mouth twists in a smirk, knowing it's not an appropriate expression, but I can't help it. "No other boyfriend. I wasn't celibate, but no." His eyes narrow and I cut off what's sure to be a nasty response. "Hey, you have _no_ place to judge me for that, Mr. Kettle."

He presses his lips together and nods. After a moment, he asks, "So where do we go from here?"

"Why does what we have been doing have to change? The past is the past and we don't have a choice but to move past it. I still want to be friends with you, Eric. We still need to learn who we are now, despite any bad or misled decisions we have made. I liked spending this afternoon with you. A lot. But as far as _right now_, I need to go home and sleep off the sun. I have a story to write tomorrow. Deadlines are a bitch."

Eric manages a thin smile at that and even opens my door for me. I watch his long legged gait towards the familiar Camaro as I turn the ignition and can only think…

I wish I hadn't been so scared when I was seventeen. I wish I'd had more confidence five years ago. I wish I knew then what I know now. How different would life be if I had chosen my heart over my head?

I wish he had kissed me before he walked away tonight.

**5/4/13 AN part 2: On a side note (which bears repeating)… if you're going to leave an anonymous review, at least have something worthwhile to say. I have nothing against criticism, especially the constructive kind. I'm open and welcome for anything that I can use to improve my story or writing in general. Leaving a review to simply say that me/my writing/my interpretation of the characters sucks and that you won't read anymore… well, just stop reading and don't waste my time and yours. Anyone who wants to review constructively or just to leave a note that you're enjoying my little trip here, I'll take any advice/praise/criticism you wish to give. To everyone who has already favorite/alerted/reviewed: THANKS A MILLION!**


	7. Wake up tomorrow and wrestle the sorrow

**5/4/13 AN: I didn't change much of anything since this chapter, in my opinion, is almost perfect. I realized a little time recap might be helpful since I've been skipping some periods that I don't consider crucial to the storyline, so here goes:**

***Sookie moves home/Jason's death: early-mid May**

***Eric and Sookie hook up at the hotel: late May**

***The talk about being friends: early June**

***Wine Festival: early July**

**Yes, I'm aware I skipped over some time, but nothing of significance happened. This chapter starts off at the immediate end of the last one, so nothing to be caught up on. Also, MissyDee is my savior. If not for her, I would still be staring at a blank line with no way to proceed. Her talent with lemons is unrivaled and you have her to thank for the citrus in this chapter. Enjoy…**

**SPOV**

When I get home, I don't know exactly how to feel. The look on Eric's face haunts me and I can understand his frustration. To learn the reasons he thought I broke up with him were just veiled excuses for _my_ weaknesses has to be hard. To be fair to myself though, the concerns that I voiced that night so long ago were valid. I had been scared that he'd get caught up in the fast-paced world of SEC football and forget about me. But I was more worried that I would neglect him in the pursuit of my own goals. My immature, inexperienced mind felt that I would lose him no matter what, so why not get it over with and do it on _my_ terms? Teenaged me was a moron.

Ugh. My brain hurts. What the hell was Eric thinking, talking about marriage? If nothing had changed, if we had stayed together, would we be married or on the way to that point? What would life be like? I was never a girl to daydream about the perfect wedding or life as a wife and/or mother. Not that I had any objections to the practice, but being preoccupied with those events in my future just wasn't me. I close my eyes to try to picture it… and I can't.

I put my wine in the fridge and pour myself a glass of ice water to being to bed with me. I don't know if it's the wine, the sun, the conversation, or some combination of all of the above, but I feel ready to fall asleep standing. I don't even want to bother with pajamas since it's still hot and sticky, despite the being down. Stripping everything off, I slide between my fresh, cool sheets and I'm asleep before another conscious thought can float through my head.

I know I'm dreaming. I'm sitting on an unfamiliar couch in a strange living room holding a scrapbook I've never seen before. I can't stop my hand from opening the cover and at the sight of the picture taking up the first page, I'm faced with an essential truth:

My subconscious is a cruel bitch.

The semi-matte, clearly professional photograph has four people dressed to the nines. On the far left is Hadley in an elegant hunter green dress holding deep red, almost burgundy colored roses. On the far right is Jason, smiling in a vest and tie set that matches the color of Hadley's dress, a proud smile lighting up his face. In the center are Eric and me. I'm in a refurbished, redesigned version of Momma's wedding dress and holding a bouquet of fire and ice roses; Eric in a black suit with white-on-white vest and tie with a boutonniere that matches my bouquet. But while Hadley and Jason are looking at the camera, Eric and I only have eyes for each other.

I _know_ I'm sleeping, that this is a dream, but I feel my heart breaking regardless. If I had been with Eric when I came home from Chicago, Jason wouldn't have been out on the road that terrible night. Although I know it's a ludicrous connection, I can't stop the guilt. My bad decision, so long ago, has changed or ruined so many things.

My dream hand, unaffected by my conscience, continues to flip though the album. It's surreal to see pictures from your wedding when nothing close to similar has even happened. I see shots of me dancing with Daddy and Eric with Trena. There's even a funny one of Pam and Jason dancing together, both looking slightly uncomfortable.

I don't know what my subconscious is trying to punish me for. The more I flip though pages, the more shared milestones I see: Eric and I standing in front of a house I've never seen next to a realtor's sign reading "SOLD". Eric in a blazer and jeans, surrounded by uniformed, screaming, sweaty teenagers, all of their hands participating in holding up a gigantic trophy. There are pages torn out of a magazine; apparently I try my hand at writing fiction again and it gets published. I try to look closer to the words but only see indecipherable squiggles. I turn the page and see a set of pictures that rock me to my sleeping core.

There are ten pictures of me, standing in profile, wearing the same shirt in each picture. In the first picture, I don't look much different than I do now; maybe slightly older, but not by much. The following two photos look almost identical. The clothes are the same, but my hair is slightly longer in each and the handwritten dates below each are the same illegible squiggles, but I somehow know they were taken exactly a month apart. The fourth picture is where I notice the changes: I can see the shirt from the three previous shots is noticeably clingier and starting to show a defined swelling at my middle. My dream self is unaffected; I feel my lips curling into a smile as I run "my" fingers over the photographic evidence of "my" pregnancy. Each progressive month the bump is noticeably larger until the final picture where I look almost as wide as I am tall. Damn Eric and his mutant Gigantor genes.

I turn the page and see a full page picture of possibly the two most beautiful, identical babies I have ever seen. Apparently Peyton Michael and Joseph Mitchell were born two days after that final picture was taken. My sleeping chest stutters for breath. This is a dream. This. Is. Not. Real. I try to wake myself up, but can't.

The rest of the photos are of the babies as they grow, mementos of those events like tiny locks of blond hair and itty-bitty little handprints. Pictures of napping babies on a sleeping Daddy's chest. Snapshots of first steps and documenting of each baby's first word. I don't know how much more that I can take when I hear something behind me and close the album.

"Hey, Beautiful. I dropped the boys off with your mom and dad. We have the _whole weekend_ to ourselves," the voice almost growls and only one man has ever made me feel like this with just his voice alone. I turn, look up, and feel myself get weak.

The Eric before me in my dream is older, as I assume I am, but still just as distractingly handsome as he is now. He holds none of the boyish immaturity that I can still see in some of his features and expressions. His brilliant blue eyes, however, can still light up with devilish delight in knowing that we are alone and can do what we want.

Okay… I think I'm just fine with staying in the dream for a little while longer.

He lifts the scrapbook off my lap and places it on the couch next to me before taking my hand and helping me to my feet. Towing me along, he walks backwards down apparently well-known hallways until we reach the bedroom. I see both of our tastes melded perfectly: the light wood bed and furniture that I love, with bedding and linens having hints of the red and blue that are his favorites. As soon as we pass through the door into the sunny room, he's attacking my clothing and it's the first thing about this dream that feels _real_.

My t-shirt is roughly pulled over my head and Eric's lips attach to mine, kissing me with a passion that I haven't felt in so long. I haven't been kissed with equal parts love and lust in five years. I open my mouth for him and his tongue slides in over mine, tasting every inch and letting me swallow his groans. His large hands cup my ass and pull me tight against him, letting me feel just how happy he is for some private time. I slide my hands under his shirt and up his abdomen, pleased to feel that he is just as in shape as he is now. We separate just long enough to pull his shirt off to join mine of the floor and we become fused at the mouth again.

Our hands work simultaneously on the other's pants and I'm cursing the invention of button-fly jeans. Somehow, we eventually get each other undressed to our underwear and I'm already panting. It's been just less than a month and a half since our time in the hotel room, and although that was _definitely_ fun, it has nothing on the love and passion that I feel in this dream.

Slowly, sensuously, he unclasps my bra and slides it gently from my body. His fingers whisper over the sides of my breasts and I feel my skin erupt in goose bumps from the gentle touch. He runs only his fingertips over my exposed skin: cheeks, neck, collar bone and shoulders, down my arms to my wrists, switching to his palms and running them up, over my stomach and ribs, the valley between my breasts, his eyes never leaving mine. "I hope you didn't have any other plans for this weekend, Lover, because I don't have any intention of letting you leave this bedroom," he says huskily. Leaning in, he whisper-growls against my ear. "If I have my way, you won't be able to walk straight regardless."

I feel my panties get wet at the vibrations of his voice and the plans he has for us. He dips his large, rough hands under the waistband and gently pushes my panties to the floor. I break the kiss again to move to the bed. Lying on my back I beckon him to me as I let my legs lazily fall to the sides. Eric is on me in seconds. With a growl his mouth latches onto my left breast. His eyes are darker than their usual brilliant sapphire and filled with lust. The midnight blue is blazing as he looks up at me. The amount of fierce, undying passion in that gaze sends chills throughout my body, even in the sticky summer heat.

I run my fingers through his hair, holding him to my chest as he moves to my right breast. Eric runs his soft tongue from the underside of my soft, fleshy mound to my nipple, drawing light circles before sucking me through his teeth. I have to break our stare momentarily, the feeling that rockets through my body causes me to close my eyes briefly. I start to rock my hips, searching for some sort of friction when he sucks harder. When I look down at him again his eyes are closed. He's completely lost in the pleasure he's giving me.

"Baby, come up here," I coo, tugging lightly on his hair.

His eyes slowly open and again I'm struck by the passion filling his burning gaze. He trails slow, strategic, open mouthed kisses from my breast to my lips, never once looking away. Everything about him is so new, yet so familiar. The way his wet tongue swirls over my skin, the way his hips settle between my thighs and he unconsciously flexes. His eyes devouring mine and his hands ghosting over my body. Eric has always had a way of making me feel like I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. When he looks at me like this it's like no one else exists. He sees into my soul. He knows my deepest, darkest secrets and loves me anyway. He always has; even with my faults and weaknesses, Eric accepts me for who I am. He fell in love with the sassy teenage girl that challenged him and made him work for her affections. When Eric looks at me like this it takes me to a place in time where the only thing that mattered was how are we going to get time alone? Not just for sex, but for a quiet, undisturbed embrace by the one person that makes you feel complete. Eric makes me feel whole.

I let my eyes close and allow him to show me with his gentle, yet rough touch just what _I_ mean to _him_. His hands are everywhere at once. Ghosting over the sides of my breasts; running the pads of his thumbs over my hardened nipples. His feather light touch dances down my sides, gripping my hips to cease my rocking.

"Slow down, Love, we have all night," he whispers against my lips. He's right - we do. I want – no – _need _to feel more of him against me, inside of me, consuming me.

He pulls his head back and I can feel him watching my face as he slides his hand between our bodies. His heavy erection is resting on my inner thigh and I moan softly when his middle finger runs up my slit, swirling around my opening.

"Is this what my girl needs?" he asks as he starts to push his finger inside of me. "Mmm, look at that beautiful face. Open your eyes, Lover." My eyes snap open and he gives me that devastatingly gorgeous smile.

"Kiss me," I plead and he does. He removes his hand and lines his tip up with my opening. His tongue sweeps into my mouth at the same time his thick cock pushes into me. It feels like home. This Eric and I have belonged to each other like this for years, years that I stupidly, foolishly, selfishly lost. Dream me has gotten to hold onto him every single day. The me that lives in reality knows that no matter how many women have fallen into his bed or how many late, lonely nights I've spent studying, our hearts have been screaming for each other. Eric and I both know no one can ever dare to compete.

Eric's thrusts are slow and deliberate. He's making sure I feel every inch of him driving into me. Every ounce of love and passion… lust… I feel it in his kiss, see it in his eyes. He's blanketing me in his emotions and it's almost suffocating me. I love it though; I'm breathing him in and letting out deep, throaty moans every time he pulls out only to swiftly thrust back in. He's getting so deep, hitting every spot. He knows my body so well; he knows what it takes to give me the release _he_ thinks I deserve.

I feel my release building. My breathing is getting heavier; my legs are hiked up around his ribs. Eric's hips piston faster. Our bodies are covered in a light sheen of sweat, allowing us to slide against each other with ease. As I start to come undone Eric reaches his end, slamming into me one, two, three times. He's swallowing my moans as our kisses get more uncoordinated, but so full of passion. He pulls his head back and collapses on top of me with a groan as he gently pulls out of me, his lips find my neck and I revel in his weight on top of me, making me feel so safe in his embrace.

The cool sheets stick to my sweaty, aching, overheated body, waking me. I sit up to look at my clock and realize it's far too early to wake up on a Sunday… but I also know there's no way I would be able to get back to sleep.

I can't remember specific details from the dream upon regaining consciousness. There was marriage, babies, togetherness, and a partnership… love. A whole life that I had a chance to have and threw away with both hands. I never thought that being a wife or a mother would appeal to me the way it does now, but not with just _any_ man. I want the man that challenges me, fights me, teases me, infuriates me, makes me laugh, and ultimately _still_ knows me better than anyone I've been intimate with before _and_ after him.

I physically ache with the emotions and sensations left over from the dream. I know sex with Eric is fantastic, but I miss the feeling of making love. Being worshipped, having every inch of my skin caressed until my whole body is an erogenous zone. To be worked up passionately and intimately tuned to feeling not only physical pleasure but emotional satisfaction. Completion.

Flopping back on my pillows, I cover my eyes with my hands as the realizations hit me. I. Fucked. Up. This dream life that I never knew I wanted had been right in front of me and I gave it up. I can blame my immaturity, but that's not a valid excuse. I think about Jason's letter. He knew. He knew me so much better than I know myself and I can't think of anything I wouldn't give to have him here with me for one more hour. I need his guidance more than ever and pain and guilt shudder through me.

I try to shake it off and get dressed in my comfy usuals if I'm not going anywhere: yoga shorts and one of Jason's old t-shirts knotted at my waist. Barefoot, I pad out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee if I'm going to be awake at this ungodly hour that the sun doesn't even rise to see. While it brews, I go back to bring Jason's letter to the table. The whole sentiment behind it moves me, but one line in particular hangs in my mind.

_Since you've moved back, you're getting another chance._

**EPOV**

I hoped the wine would make me sleepy, but it doesn't. I'm not surprised; beer and liquor hasn't ever worked either. This staying-awake-all-night shit has to end sometime. Apparently though, it's not going to end tonight.

I'm not in the mood for company after spending the afternoon and evening with Sookie, being _friends_. Even in my mind, I can't help sneering over the word. I want her in my life, and if all she's willing to offer is her friendship, so be it. Doesn't mean I have to be entirely happy about it though. I turn my phone off and plug it into the charger after making a reminder to follow up on the trainer position. Having a goal might help me turn off the thoughts and restlessness that keep me awake night after night.

That thought sparks another and I feel stupid for not taking advantage of it sooner. The subdivision my condo is in has a three-mile track circling the neighborhood. I immediately head to my room to pull on jogging shorts and my running shoes. I have wallowed for long enough. If I want to get back into the shape I was in a short seven months ago, the work starts now. I haven't entirely let myself go, but I can feel the effects of my Ron Jeremy workout regime when I start jogging on the sparsely lit trail in the middle of the night.

Temperature wise, I couldn't have picked a better time. With the sun down, it's considerably cooler than during the day and while still humid, the air doesn't feel as sticky or solid. By the end of the third mile I'm huffing, but I push myself. Six miles used to be nothing and damn it, I'm not going to let myself turn into a tubby couch potato just because things haven't gone the way I wanted them to.

When I finish the second lap of the track, I lock my hands behind my head and take the long way to walk back to my condo. On my porch I do a few more stretches to help cool my body down before going in. Setting a goal to get to three laps before the end of August, I strip my soaked clothes off and head in to take a cool shower.

I glance at the clock as I leave the bathroom. Five AM and I am exhausted to the point of near pain. It feels fantastic. I toss the towel in the laundry that I mentally remind myself has to be done when I wake up and slide into bed.

_BANG BANG BANG_

Oh, what the fuck is this? I'm almost asleep before sunrise for the first time in months and some asshole has to knock on my door? I grab a random pair of jeans and pull them on before threatening the life of the shithead who is disturbing my peace; it's hard to be intimidating naked. Growling and muttering to myself down the hall, I all but scream "WHAT?!" when I fling the door open. The fury dies instantly.

It's Sookie.

**AN: Like I said, not many changes here. BTW, the babies names are: Peyton (Manning: UT quarterback before heading to the NFL) Michael (middle name of paternal grandfather) and Joseph (Pulitzer – award for exceptional journalism) Mitchell (middle name of maternal grandfather). Just thought I'd clarify the connections.**


	8. This is my heart bleeding before you

**5/4/13 AN: Minimal changes… again. Like I said last time, this is a scene I had in my head from the time I ended "What the Hell". These characters are in no way mine… I just love playing with them so very, very much. Enjoy!**

**EPOV**

"Wha… what are you doing here?" I stutter, partly because I'm exhausted, but mostly from shock.

"I… uh… I'm honestly not sure." She looks like she's still in her pajamas. "Can I come in?"

I nod and step back to let her enter. She stands in my living room, looking around uncomfortably. I invite her to sit and offer her something to drink. She shakes her head and sits on the couch ramrod straight with her leg bobbing. It looks like she's had a full pot of coffee; I remember how fidgety that much caffeine makes her. I grab a bottle of apple juice from the fridge and join her.

"I didn't wake you up did I?" she asks quietly, taking in my mussed hair and hasty dressing.

I run my fingers through my hair to tame any wild tufts sticking up then shake my head. "No. I went for a run earlier and was lying down, but I wasn't asleep yet."

She bites her lip and looks down, like she's trying to decide what to say. I just watch and wait for her to tell me why she drove an hour to see me at this time of morning. "Has anyone ever said something to you innocently, maybe not even realizing it, that rocks your entire view of what you thought your life should be?"

Despite the convoluted wording, I think I understand what she's asking. But I want clarification. "What has you so shaken up, Sook? This isn't like you." It's not. Her ability to keep her cool is one of the things I've always admired about her.

"When we were talking in the parking lot…" she starts, still looking down, refusing eye contact, "do you really think we'd still be together? Even with the time apart, the distance, all the obligations we both had, do you think we would have beaten the odds?"

Well, that's a sixty-four thousand dollar question and one I've puzzled over more than once. I'm curious as to what started _her_ thinking about it, after all this time. "I don't know if there's any way to tell. I know how I felt about you. I think… well, I'd _like_ to think that we could have handled it, but honestly, I just don't know." Despite what I said last night, I think the chances of us still being together would be sixty-forty, at best.

She looks up at me finally, her brow furrowed in confusion. "You said _married_. You said if we hadn't broken up, we could be married right now. Was that just some kind of mind fuck you thought you'd throw out at me for a reaction?"

Fuck. I did blurt that out, didn't I? "I wasn't trying to mess with you. Look, I see kids I graduated with getting engaged or married all the time. I'm not saying we would have gotten there, but it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility if we had."

She stands and starts pacing. I have to work to hide my grin. In the gigantic t-shirt and tiny shorts, she looks comfortable… and beautiful. She's so far into her thoughts she doesn't notice me following her with my eyes.

It's been about a month and a half since Sookie and I decided to try a friendship. It's not what I'm used to. I've seen other girls when I want but… I just don't seem to want to as much anymore. I can't really write out in detail how exactly I spend my time, but it hasn't been with the vapid bed warmers that I occupied myself with before. Not that I've cut myself off completely, but it's not an every night occurrence like it was when I first moved here.

Sookie stops suddenly and spins to face me. "What are we doing here, Eric?"

The question takes me by surprise. "Huh?"

She waves her hand to gesture between us. "This. You and me. What are we doing?"

I can't fight it and have to yawn. "Well, right now you're keeping me up and I'm fighting sleep. I'm too tired for guessing games, Sook. Just ask what you want to know."

Her face flushes pink, but not with embarrassment. My bluntness actually pisses her off a little bit. Tough. I'm too damn tired to worry about social niceties and this is _my_ house. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smirking, but I don't know how successful I am. Taking a deep breath, she says, "I want another chance."

Maybe exhaustion is fogging my brain, but I only barely keep from grunting "Huh?" again like a moron. I yawn again and ask, "Another chance at what?" My eyes start to creep closed.

"Us." My eyes pop open. Yep, I'm awake now. Is she serious?

"What changed your mind? Last I heard, direct from you, benefits were off the table."

She sighs and stiffens her back. "I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about you and me trying again. I know we're still trying to get to know each other again, but I already know I want more. If I'm going to be completely frank, I think I've wanted you back for… well, longer than I want to admit to. I want more than just hanging out here and there, trying to avoid serious discussions. You said that what we have…"

I have to interrupt. "_Had_, Sookie. What we _had_ was incredible and amazing. The possibilities for what we _had_ were limitless. But you chose to give up. _You_ decided that we weren't strong enough." I rake my fingers through my hair and try to organize my thoughts. "Sook, I don't blame you. I did, for a really long time, but I actually got over it. I used some of the time running to think about what you said last night. You were scared; you had a right to be. Neither of us knew what would happen when I left. I guess I just had more confidence in what we had."

"I was a stupid kid. I get that. Believe me, I'm fully aware and if I could go back in time I would kick my own ass for being so stupid and scared. But I can't. The best I can do is ask for forgiveness and see if we can recapture what we _had_." Her face is flushed and she's breathing heavily. I know it's from anxiety, but it's a reaction I'm more used to under much more pleasant circumstances. "I want another chance with you, Eric."

I'm entirely too tired to think about this. I try to clear my head and answer her coherently. "Forgiveness is a given. I wouldn't have tried to be friends with you if that were the case. But as far as everything else… I just don't think that's a good idea, Sookie." I sigh and try to explain. "We've changed since high school. We both acknowledge that. If we had stayed together, the relationship would have grown, changed, matured with us. Now… hell, Sook, we're barely friends. We're getting there, but I don't know if we'll ever be able to get back to what we used to be. There's too much shit in the past that I'm not sure I can get over. But with time… I don't think _we_ are ready for that right now."

Sookie closes her eyes and dips her head. She takes a couple of deep breaths and looks up with a wry smile. "I just had to know. Thank you for being honest." Heading for the door, she pauses and turns with her hand on the knob. "I hope this doesn't change anything. I _do_ still want to be friends. Even if it can't be more. I'm sorry for keeping you up." She smoothly slips out the door, closing it firmly behind her before I can say anything.

I stare at the closed door for several minutes before I get up to flip the lock. Have I just made a huge mistake? I'll think more about it when I wake up. I drag my spent body to bed and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

**SPOV**

He doesn't want me. I knew it was a possibility when I drove there. Since that stupid, drunken night in the hotel, not one single thing he's done has been more than friendly. My overly ambitious, highly caffeinated, affection deprived mind took a fucking dream and carried it too far. What the hell was I thinking? How could I have thought it was a good idea to drive out and confess how I feel before sunrise?

Why did he have to look like that? I could tell there was nothing under his jeans. I know the man owns a damn shirt, but he never seems to be wearing one when I show up at his home. And that smell… Lots of things may have changed, but the slight scent of his sweat lingering under the clean smell of his soap always did turn me on. And he knew it. He had no idea I was coming, so it couldn't have been planned, but he couldn't have been more tempting to me if he tried.

I manage to make it home before the rejection overwhelms me. I sit in my car, parked in my driveway, head resting on my steering wheel, and let the tears course down my cheeks. It took every bit of strength I had not to do this in front of him. I'm glad I was able to hold out.

And things change. As much as I hoped they wouldn't, it happens almost immediately. I feel his absence in my life in the following weeks…

Twenty three days. Twenty three fucking days since I dropped my pride and all but begged him for a second chance. Twenty three days since I've seen or even just talked to him, just a text every now and then, saying "hey" or "hi"; no invitation for further contact and if he wants more he'll have to initiate it. I've already put myself out there; the ball's in his court now. I wonder if he applied for the trainer job. I wonder if he's returned to bedding nameless women just to pass the time. I wonder if he misses me as much as I miss him.

I finish my most recent articles and email them to my editor. With all my sudden free time, I have a backlog of stories and can take some time off if I feel like slacking or taking a spur-of-the-moment vacation. I putter around the house trying to decide if I'm motivated enough to drive the five hours to the beach or if hanging out at the lake is good enough. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss the knock on the front door. No one _ever_ comes to the front door. I peek out and feel a pang of disappointment when the car in the driveway is just a non-descript blue sedan and not a red Camaro. Shrugging to myself, I peep through the window by the door and nearly jump out of my skin. "Jake!" I scream, yanking the door open and wrapping my arms around my surprise guest.

He laughs and returns my hug, lifting me off my feet. "I find you in the strangest places, Stackhouse."

I smack his arm before holding him tighter. "So how'd you find me, Purifoy?

Jake was one of my "friends" at Northwestern. As premed, he told me up front that he thought I was hot, but he didn't have the time to dedicate to his major as well as a relationship. When he learned that I had no interest in any kind of commitment, he was happily surprised. We would meet up and release mutual tension whenever it was needed. We reaped the "benefits" of our friendship for over two years and he was the only guy in college that ever met Jason.

"I'm starting VCOM this winter and I thought I'd go ahead and move to learn and explore the area. I remembered you saying you lived in the area, so I thought I'd look you up. It's good to see you, Sexy," he drawls, letting me pull him into the house. "It has been far, _far_ too long since I last saw you," growling against my ear, making me shiver. Jake pulls me close and kisses me hard; it makes me dizzy, breathless, and I can already see fireworks behind my eyelids. I go weak against him and let him mold my body to his, however he wants. When he finally releases me, we're both panting. My whole body is roasting in a way that has nothing to do with the August heat; his hazel green eyes blaze and flash with lust, deepening to almost black. It's been too long since I've felt this and grabbing his hand, I practically sprint back to my bedroom. He doesn't fight me in the slightest.

Two hours later, we're catching our breath again. I'm dazed and relaxed in a way I haven't been in months, laying back watching the ceiling fan spin lazily. Jake turns on his side and grins down at me. "Not that I'm complaining Stackhouse, but what the fuck was that?"

"Hmm?" I mumble, not wanting to chat and kill my buzz.

"Two years we've been hooking up and it's never been like that. Again, not complaining, cuz that was fucking amazing, but what the hell, Sook?"

Jake _never_ calls me Sook or Sookie unless he's in a serious mood. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it's Stackhouse or Sexy. Pet names aren't his forte. "It's been a long summer, Purifoy. A lot of shit I don't feel like rehashing. I missed you and thought an enthusiastic 'Welcome to Virginia' was called for. If you aren't complaining, than just hush and enjoy it."

He chuckles but doesn't lie back down. "I'm starving. Can I take you somewhere for lunch?"

I shake my head and get up myself, figuring playtime is over for now and should get dressed. "I'll make lunch and we can go out for dinner. There's a new place at the lake that I've been wanting to try. Come on, let's see what I can dig up for food."

We get to the kitchen and I make us both sandwiches and pour glasses of iced tea. We sit beside each other and try to catch up on the other's life in the four months that have passed since I left Chicago. "So where are you living? If classes don't start until January, why move down here now?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I don't like not knowing where I am. I'm using the time to learn the area and get a feel for the place. I found a great deal on a condo rental in a quiet neighborhood about fifteen minutes from campus. No undergrads or parties; just families and grad students." He tells me where he's renting and I bite back a laugh – he's on the same street as Eric. Continuing, he asks, "So is Jason coming out with us tonight? You guys were almost inseparable last time he came to visit."

I choke on my sandwich and rush from the table. It's been awhile since I've had to talk about my brother. Being in a small town where everyone knows everything about everyone else has made it easier, but it still hits me hard when I'm not expecting it. Jake come behind me and holds my hair back as lunch and breakfast come back up. When I'm done he gets me a glass of water and a washcloth to wipe my face. Once I'm calm he sits next to me on the floor and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "What happened, Sookie?"

I rest my head on his shoulder and tell him about my disastrous homecoming and Jason's death. He is perfect, showing the right amount of sympathy for someone he only met twice while being appropriately empathetic for the grief I'm still dealing with. I continue spilling everything to him, about what happened with Eric from seeing him again after the funeral until twenty three days ago. Jake and I may have a friendship with benefits, but it's never been just about sex. We've always been able to talk to each other about anything without fear of being judged. Jason liked him a lot.

"So, the ex is back in your life and I'm apparently going to be his neighbor. I have to say, life is never boring with you around, Stackhouse," he quips, smirking over at me.

"Shut up. He's not in my life anymore. I made sure of that three weeks ago with my big fucking mouth." I sigh and cuddle closer to him. "No matter. It's his loss, right?" Yes, it sounds needy and insecure, but damnit, I need a little reassurance.

"If he's not willing to give you a chance, I have serious doubts about his intellect. There's no way that he can be as smart as you say he is." _This_ is why I adore him.

He helps me off the floor and we make plans. Since I have all this sudden free time, I invite him to stay the rest of the week with me, loving the idea of having his company. He agrees and decides to run back to his place so he can pack some clothes. I decide to go him and we'll take a nap there before getting ready to go from there. I grab some "goin' out" clothes and follow him to his condo.

Once there, it's clear he's just moved in, as it's furnished with the bare basics and stacks of boxes. He tugs me back to his bedroom where we play a bit more before succumbing to sleep, resting up for our first big night out since parting company in Illinois.

Jake lets me shower first, since he's one of the lucky assholes that can shower, dress, and be ready to go in fifteen minutes flat. When I finish dressing, he gives me a low wolf whistle. "Looking hot, Stackhouse. You looking to get lucky tonight? You know I make a kickass wingman!"

I smack his chest and roll my eyes, the stern effect ruined by my giggles. I slide on my heels and let Jake follow me back to my house so he can drop off his car. I can't help looking down the road before I drive off; the absence of the red Camaro from its usual spot screams at me.

A little over an hour and a half later, I pull up to Moosie's. The restaurant took the place of a dinky tavern and opened on Memorial Day. I remember the old establishment and there had been nothing spectacular or outstanding about it except for its perfect location. Jake opens my door and offers me his arm. Grinning at the cheesy gesture, I take it and we head in.

We talk throughout dinner about anything and everything that we didn't cover before. As we're finishing, I hear music coming from outside and go to investigate. When I step out the wrap-around deck, I realize just how long it's been since I've been here.

The single dock where boats could tie off is now a huge stationary platform with a stage. Under the deck are two outdoor bars gearing up for the crowd that always comes with live music. I step back inside and look over to Jake with a raised eyebrow and flick my head toward the stage in suggestion. He meets my gaze with a naughty grin and nods. Jake is the only guy I've met that loves to dance as much as I do.

He grabs the check before I can, so I leave the tip before we head down the stairs to the dance floor. He buys us a couple of drinks and we watch the band warm up as the sun sets. The night is still warm and I lean against Jake, comfortable against him, knowing that at least someone wants me.

**AN: I know a lot of people are not going to be happy about this development, but MissyDee assures me this is the perfect stopping point. I already have most of the next chapter written (in my head). I was to assure those doubters out there that I really do (currently) have a HEA all set for Eric and Sookie, but after everything, there's still things they both have to get over. Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. Until next time…**


	9. Tomorrow brings the consequence at hand

**5/4/13 AN: I only changed a few things. I wanted Jake and Eric to have it out from the moment I started this. Eric needed a motivator. MissyDee is my goddess. She's so awesome. However, the characters (and anything else you recognize) don't belong to me.**

**EPOV**

"Come on, Eric. We only have a few Fridays left before the season starts. We can go out, have a few drinks, and get to know each other better. As the newest addition to the staff, we need to know you better," Malcolm lectures after practice as the players make their ways out of the locker room.

When I applied for the trainer position, I had no idea how well known my name was. Head coach Malcolm Donner remembered me from high school when I played against his team – and won – annually. Both he and defensive coordinator Liam Wade followed my entire college career and were surprised by the position I was applying for. When I was called back – rather quickly after submitting my application – I wasn't offered the trainer job. I was asked to take the position as assistant offensive coordinator and quarterback coach. To say I was surprised was an understatement. I didn't hesitate to jump at the job.

I've spent the last few weeks reviewing my old playbooks and modifying some of the plays for my boys, watching film of the teams we would be going against to plan the best strategies for the upcoming season, and working with my teams and joining them during their strength and conditioning workouts outside of regular practice. The result is crashing into a dead sleep almost as soon as I get home. I love it.

I'm hoping to get more rest tonight so I can keep my rare free Saturday completely open. I've neglected my mom recently; our schedules never seem to mesh. We made plans to meet for lunch tomorrow. She says she has news that she wants to tell me in person. I don't know whether to be excited or nervous about that.

I also feel guilty as hell about losing touch with Sookie. After her confession and turning down her request for another chance with me, I only intended to give her a few days to herself. She would want it – I _do_ still remember so many things about how she processes. I wanted to take some time for myself also; to think about what she offered with an alert and fully rested mind. In the bright light of the next day… I'm still not sure if I agree with my decision from that night. But life gets in the way of getting back together with her to talk things out. I have a new job, new responsibilities, and a delightful new ability to be asleep before Letterman's monologue. I'm not too worried though. Even with the time apart, she should know that I wouldn't be out of touch for so long without a very good reason.

I sigh and agree to Malcolm's night of coach camaraderie building that he seems to think we need and set a time to meet up at Cornerstone, a restaurant/bar downtown. I've been there once or twice, but it was in my bitter and hazy days right after I moved and I don't remember it that well.

After showering, I head out. If I have to go, at least I'll be getting better acquainted with my fellow coaches in a personal sense. Their professionalism and drive, as well as the ways they inspire and motivate the players, already impress me. I meet up with Liam and the special teams coach, Franklin Mott, by the bar and when Malcolm shows up, we take a table by the window, able to see the bustling and sometimes eccentric downtown traffic between conversations.

A flash of blond catches my eye mid-sentence. It's slightly darker than mine; I tend to go platinum after a few days in the sun. The fantastically curvy figure attached to the fall of wavy hair makes me grin, but the tall guy with dark hair that wraps his arm around her waist does not. Who the fuck is that guy and why is she letting him… did she just laugh at him grabbing her ass? Miss Hates PDA is letting some asshole grope her in public? By the kiss she lays on him before crossing the street, it's apparent she no longer has issues with showing affection around other people.

My eyes follow them until they turn a corner and are out of sight. Liam clears his throat and smirks at Malcolm and Franklin when he gets my attention. "Friend of yours?"

"Sorry?" I force my focus back to my companions.

Franklin chimes in, "The hot little blond that walked by. You were… uh…. _growling_ a little. You know her?"

"I thought I did," I mumble at the table before looking up at my colleagues with a thoroughly fake smile. "Just someone I used to go to school with. What were we talking about?"

The rest of dinner is as pleasant as possible with that grope and kiss replaying in my head. I do like learning more about the guys I'll be spending the majority of my time with for the next fifteen weeks or so. When we part to go our separate ways, my dark thoughts return full force.

Who is he? I've never seen him before and I'm sure I would have if Sookie is _that_ comfortable with him. Did she meet him after we last talked? _How badly could she want me back if she's already with someone else_?

That's the thought that flares mere disappointment to anger. I can't believe her! I take a little time to figure things out and she doesn't have the patience to wait a few weeks? And who. the. FUCK! is this guy? I'm off and driving without thinking, not realizing where I'm headed until I reach my destination.

The old farmhouse looks just like I remember. As I head around to the back, I see windows from the living room, kitchen, and a single bedroom are lit up from the inside. Parking next to a blue Toyota, I watch a shadow pass from the living room to the kitchen and open the back door. The dark haired guy steps out to the back porch when I exit my car. "Can I help you?" he calls out warily toward me.

He's in _her_ house He's roaming around alone in _her_ house. He's greeting guests to _her_ house. I don't like it one bit. I widen my stance a little and clasp my arms behind my back, standing silently by my car. "I said, can I help you?" he repeats himself and comes closer. Good.

He's not as tall as me, but it's close. He built a little thicker than me, and his dark hair is shaggy and messy. I _really_ don't like that he's wearing different clothes than he was earlier and his shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned, flapping open against him. "You got a problem, man?" he asks as I try to stare him down, but he never wavers, meeting and matching my glare. "What are you doing here?"

Excuse me? "I'm here to see Sookie," I bark at him and go to step around him. Little fucker is fast and cuts me off.

"She's showering and heading to bed. I don't know if she really wants to see you."

I laugh bitterly. "Who the fuck do you think you are, little man? I'm going in to talk to Sookie. I know her better than you ever will."

He cuts me off again. "I know just who I am and I know who you are too. Eric, right?"

That stops me. "How do _you_ know who I am?"

He gives me an evil smirk. "I may not be all fan-girly about it, but I do watch football sometimes. And I've seen pictures…one in a silver locket comes to mind. So does a scandalous red dress…" The locket I gave her for Christmas with the picture from Homecoming. Fuck. That was the night I told her for the first time that I loved her. How does this asshole know about that locket? " I know an awful lot about you, _Eric_," he continues, emphasizing my name. " I know how you and Sookie broke up. I know how much she missed you in Chicago. I helped… ease her suffering," he grins wickedly at me with a wink. "I know just how badly her heart was broken when Jason was killed. I know how you both got drunk and fucked each other stupid a week or so after that. I know that she'd been working her way to telling you that she wanted you back. I know she tried to be friends with you despite wanting more. And I know that when she tried to be honest with you and admitted her feelings, you _rejected_ her. Not only rejected her, but completely ignored her for almost a month making her rethink her whole decision to stay in the area after Jason died. So I ask you… which of us do _you _ think knows better what Sookie would want and what she needs? And which of us is most prepared to give that to her?"

**SPOV**

"Jake? Where are you?" I call out after I change into pajamas after my shower. I expect him to be waiting for me in the bedroom, but it's empty. Wrapping my robe around me, I go to the kitchen. The door to the back porch is open and I hear voices from the driveway. I ease onto the porch when Jake's voice rises angrily. "… heart was broken when Jason was killed."

I peek around the corner and my friend is yelling at… Eric? I would inch closer, but he's being loud enough that I don't need to. I hear every word. He's not breaking any confidences, and I don't think I've ever hear his voice sound so venomous.

He's being protective of me. He's picking up where Jason left off. We're _just__friends_. Friends that have hot, crazy sex when the mood strikes, but just friends, first and foremost. Until I head my "buddy" growl, "Which of us do _you _ think knows better what Sookie would want and what she needs? And which of us is most prepared to give that to her?"

I press my back against the wall and try to process. Jake knows how I feel about Eric. He's seen the box of keepsakes Jason left for me, along with the letter. He's held me while I moped. He's never shown me anything that would explain the level of possessiveness that he's exhibiting now.

I hear Eric's response. "And who are _you_ to her? I've never seen you around before? Why do _you_ think you know her well enough to give her what she needs?" His voice is taunting; I can almost hear the sneer that is surely twisting his lips.

"You haven't seen me around because I just moved here from Chicago. I've been Sookie's friend for more than two years. What?" He laughs. "You didn't think that Sookie was a lonely wallflower at Northwestern, did you? Well, let me correct that misconception. She has **no** complaints about how I take care of her _needs_. And God knows _I've_ always been straight with her." Jake's derisive tone surpasses Eric's – not an easy feat.

Part of me wonders when they're going to unzip and pull out the rulers. The other part is horrified that they're discussing me so… explicitly. I feel like a toy or a pet they don't want the other to play with. I don't like it. I'm also not used to have my personal, private details discussed so frankly and somewhat crudely. I've _never_ witnessed Jake – sweet, caring, easygoing Jake – act so antagonistically. I _really_ don't like it.

"I know better than to share personal details about my 'friend's' personal life with perfect strangers. Do you really think she wants other people to know her private details? If you've been a friend like you say you have, you would know that much, or at least give her the respect to keep that shit private." Yay Eric! Way to read my thoughts on the testosterone-fest in the driveway.

Jake's gravelly voice replies, "But you're not a stranger. You know her… _intimately_. I'm merely informing you that you are not the only man with an interest in my lovely hostess and I have no intention to step aside so she can be hurt _again_. She's a strong woman, but even someone with her strength can be broken."

Eric's response is so soft that I have to strain to hear him. "I don't want to hurt or break her. I never meant to go so long without talking to her…"

"Do you think your intentions really matter right now? How do you think being abandoned feels to her, especially after losing her brother not that long ago?" Jake almost yells. Damn his psychology classes; those two things aren't even related. He's dangerously close to overstepping. "Just go. She's in bed and I'm not waking her. If talking to her means so much to you, do it at _her_ convenience. Not on a whim because you're pissed off at… just before midnight." Why had Eric been pissed at me?

"You mean you'd let her off her leash to talk to me alone?" The taunting tone and offensive phrasing almost pulls me from my hiding spot. That motherfu…

Jake's voice finally softens. "If you really have to ask that, what are you even doing here? I'm not her keeper and _no one_ owns or controls Stackhouse. If you believe that," he huffs a bitter chuckle, "she's not a girl you would want anyway."

I hear the soft creak of the car door opening. "How do you know what I want?" No malice, just genuine curiosity.

"If you wanted someone weak-willed and easily led, a decoration rather than a companion, you never would have fallen for someone like Sookie," Jake responds and starts walking toward the house. The car starts and briefly muffles the crunching steps in the gravel. I fold my arms over my chest and wait for Jake to walk past. When he does and realizes I've heard everything, he ducks his head and gives me a sheepish grin. "How much trouble am I in?"

I haul back and punch his arm – hard. "Tons! What the hell was that possessive shit out there?"

"If he's put off by some perceived competition, he's not worth your time or trouble. I was trying to help."

I sigh. "Damnit, Jake. That's _my_ decision to make. And where the hell do you get off telling him how my 'needs' are getting met? I know how it would feel if someone did that to me; pushing that kind of knowledge onto him is just borderline cruel."

"Sook, come here," he says as he tugs me into the living room and sitting me on the couch. "Look, you know I love you and only want what's best for you. If it turns out to be this Eric guy, great. But I think you can do better. I'm your friend, before anything else, and you know that. I want you to think about this: are you hung up on this guy because of what he was to you in high school or do you truly have feelings for who he is now? Do you even _really_ know who he is anymore? Is he good for you? Does he appreciate what you are and make you want to be a better person at the same time? Think about the answers to those questions long and hard. When you can answer each one honestly, you can make a well-informed, rational decision about what you want."

I want to, but I don't tell him that being ruled by my emotions is part of who I am. In a lot of ways, Jake is my polar opposite: calm and logical to my rash emotionality. The differences made us mesh well in so many ways, but we both know that things between us would _never_ work romantically. And Eric is just as fiery, impulsive, and passionate as I am.

Jake follows me back to the bedroom and pulls me down next to him. I curl up, resting my head on his chest and wrapping my arm over his stomach. He understands immediately that I'm not in the mood for sex; I just want the comfort of his body next to mine. There aren't many things more soothing that the sound of his strong heartbeat under my ear and his graceful fingers running softly through my hair. The sensations quickly lull me to sleep with the knowledge that I have _a lot_ to think about in the near future.


	10. When the time comes, baby don't run

**5/4/13 AN: This is the last completed chapter I had and I didn't change a whole lot. Mainly, I needed to get Eric's mind-set under control. I wanted to adjust to where he wasn't so bitter and frankly hurtful toward Sookie. If he were where I was putting him, there's no way my metal HEA for them would work. I have a partial chapter in progress on my hard drive, but I'm promising myself that I am finishing my other WIP (not posted yet) before I do anything else since that one is almost done in my head – I just have to get it down in actual words. I don't own 'em… but a girl can dream, right?.**

**SPOV**

Jake is already up and packing when I wake up. He smiles and points to a steaming mug of coffee, doctored to perfection. I breathe in the heady steam before taking that first fortifying sip. Jake knows me well enough to know that first thing in the morning, my need for caffeinated goodness takes priority over almost anything else.

"I'm going to head home., I have unpacking to do and I've intruded on your hospitality long enough," he says, zipping his bag closed.

I nod. "I could use a little alone time to think. Not that I don't love having you around, but I need to be on my own for a few days."

"You're not fooling me, Stackhouse. As soon as I leave, you're going to call him, aren't you?" He smirks at me from across the room and winks.

Sipping more coffee, I shrug. "I might make it until you're out of the driveway," I say with a grin. More seriously, I continue, "He deserves an explanation for last night," I narrow my eyes at him, "and you damn well know it."

"What?" he asks with exaggeratedly innocent, wide baby cow eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that. Telling him how you 'take care of my needs' and relating his rejection to Jason's death! Both things were completely unnecessary and that last thing was untrue besides! Just because I didn't call you on that shit last night doesn't mean I let it go. What the hell were you thinking, Jake?" Once the coffee hits my bloodstream, my temper flares.

He carefully wraps an arm around my shoulders. "You have a right to be upset. I know I overstepped. My protective instincts got jolted by that guy acting like he had a right to be here and to be upset with you. If he was going to show up at all, it should have been with his tail between his legs, but instead he had steam rolling out of his ears. It pissed me off that he felt entitled. Some of what I said was so he would pull his head out of his ass. You don't _need_ him and he needs to know that you're worth more than he's giving you."

Aww! His little speech chokes me up a little and I have to sip more coffee to clear the lump in my throat. He wraps his other arm around me in a tight hug before pressing his lips to my forehead, grabbing his bag, and heading home.

I finish my coffee and stretch, then roll out of bed to start the day. I pop a bagel in the toaster while I gather the courage to make the call. After coating the bagel with cream cheese, eating slowly, and fixing another cup of coffee, I've run out of reasons to stall and determine it's not too early to call.

"I'm surprised _you're_ calling," is how I'm greeted instead of the traditional "Hello". Oh, this promises to be all kinds of fun.

"I'm calling to apologize for Jake. He told me about what he said to you last night and he was completely out of line." I don't think he needs to know I heard almost the whole exchange.

"Considering the bias that comes from him being the storyteller, why are you apologizing for him rather than bitching me out over my attitude?" He sounds more sullen and bitter than he has in a long time.

"He told me that he intentionally misrepresented who he was in my life, trying to get a reaction out of you." I'm still kinda pissed about that.

"Yeah, and?"

I have to sigh. I hate hearing the resentful tone in his voice. "Eric, Jake is _just_ a friend. He's a little overprotective of me. From his point of view, he thought he was doing the right thing. I don't happen to agree."

"He's _just_ a friend? That's all?" While still harsh, his voice is tempered slightly by his inquisitiveness.

"Just friends. He surprised me by showing up earlier this week. Since I had nothing else going on, I invited him to stay and visit for a little while. There's really nothing between us other than friendship." I don't know why I want to justify myself to him; it just seems like he needs some reassurance.

He huffs out a deep breath and I can't tell if it's from annoyance or relief. "I can't say that meeting him last night didn't piss me off. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still a little. But… " another damn sigh… "it's not your fault. Look I'm getting ready for lunch with my mom, so I have to go."

"Uh… look," I start, trying to stall, "after lunch, can you come by? Jake's gone and I kinda want to know why you came by last night. Jake said you were being confrontational, but, "I rush to put my spin on it, "that could have just been him." I'm not the kind of gal to let things fester; I really want to know why he showed up in a huff after almost a month of avoidance.

"Eh… yeah. I don't see why not. I'm not sure how long I'm going to be with Mom, so why don't I just give you call when I'm on my way?"

I try not to exhale too loudly and realize I've been holding my breath. I agree and we iron out a few additional details before ending the call. I wander around the house and try to figure out what to do with myself and my unusual down time. Glancing out my window at my sun-dappled lawn, I smile and decide to indulge in a forgotten vice. I change out of my pajamas, make and pack some lunch in a small cooler, toss a few necessities in a tote bag, and drive off.

It's been a long time since I've spoiled myself with sunbathing and I haven't been to Daddy's cabin since Jason's funeral. Someone has been out here though: the field is mowed and the dock has been maintained, with the pale wood of new planks contrasting with the older wood that is a little warped or cracked. I spread out my towel and lean back, relaxing in the silence of the empty space.

I loosely time my exposure, flipping from front to back regularly to keep my color even. I grab my cooler and enjoy the shade of the cabin porch while I eat. I return to my towel and am almost asleep on my stomach when the phone rings.

**EPOV**

I rush around after ending the phone call, not quite sure how I feel. I want to be furious at Sookie, but her apology for her "friend's" behavior, as well as the fact that she wasn't personally involved, negates my ability to do so. I rush through a shower, get dressed, check the directions to the restaurant where Mom wants to meet, and leave.

Half an hour later, I pull into the parking lot and immediately see my mom's Volvo. I park a few spots away and go in, scanning the tables for her. She sees me and waves me over with a tense smile. A server approaches and we order; Mom asks to hold off the conversation until after we eat.

After the meal, she orders a glass of wine and I get a beer. I'm beginning to get nervous from the obvious stalling. Once the server walks away again, Mom sips her wine and temples her fingers, looking at her hands rather than me. "I'm not quite sure where to start this, Eric. I have a lot to tell you."

She's not normally like this. She says what she thinks and doesn't really care how other people regard it. In her profession, she has to be straightforward. "Take the easiest thing and we'll go from there."

"Okay, that might work." She takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm putting the house up for sale and moving closer to the hospital sometime in the fall."

That's not nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. I'm relieved; Pam and I wondered why she was keeping that big house all to herself. My father was almost never there, if he ever came "home" at all. "That makes sense since Pam and I moved out. What brought on the decision?"

She sighs again and looks down into her wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid. "Your father had me served." Her eyes meet mine over the table and clarifies, "With divorce papers."

That bastard. I already neither liked nor had much respect for the man, but I know now that I actually _hate_ him. My jaw tenses and I know Mom can see it. She decides to explain further. "Crystal is pregnant."

I'm speechless. He ignores my mom for years and moves in with his former "assistant" after Pam leaves for college. Now he lives with this whore, only seven years older than me, and decides to have a baby… with _her_? Another kid that can grow up neglected and feeling resentful is just what this world needs. At least Pam and I had a mother who was involved in our lives as much as her job would let her. This poor kid would not only have a part-time father, but a mother who is more concerned about hair care than child care. "Did he tell you about his bastard before or after he had you served?" I ask with my jaw tight.

"Eric!" she exclaims in a hushed whisper. "He called after I got the papers. He wanted to know what I would agree to to get this settled quickly and quietly. Apparently his mistress is anxious to change her last name and he's willing to bend over backwards to get this done." I hope she takes him to the fucking cleaners. "That's why I'm moving. I don't want to live in that house anymore and with you kids gone, I don't need the room. I told your father that I wanted the house so I can sell it and use the proceeds to get something new for myself. He practically choked when he jumped to agree to that." Her lips twist in a wry smile before she takes another sip of wine. "I only asked for one other thing.

I wonder when all of this happened. Have I really been so self-involved that I'm not finding out about all of this until now? A sickening chill of guilt starts to creep over me because I know Mom isn't the only one I've been blind to. "What else?"

"He's setting up trusts for you and Pam that you'll be able to take over at the age of thirty. I don't trust that gold digging tramp and I want to make sure you and your sister are taken care of, at least financially. The accounts my parents left for the two of you were earmarked for college and anything left over after your graduation was for fun. Since your father decided to spend your formative years working, the least he can do is set aside some of the fruits of that labor for the children he neglected in order to work as many hours as he could."

She sounds so bitter and a small part of me wonders why. It's not as though she ever gave up hours on her job to spend more time with Pam and I, although she did seem to try harder to be there for us. My sister and I accepted it as a fact of life early on: work came first for Mom and Dad. I had no idea she resented him for doing essentially the same thing she did.

But then again… maybe it wasn't the fact that we were neglected for a job. Maybe it was that she would work hectic graveyard shifts only to come home to a cold, empty house and bed while he worked stereotypical bankers' hours and went to an apartment that was all his and the arms of his decades-younger mistress. In actuality, besides the number of hours the spent with their jobs, not a thing about their situations was similar.

I've only spoken to my father once since I've moved back. I gave him my new address and informed him that I used the majority of the trust from grandparents' that was left after graduation to pay for my condo. The rest was used for utilities and living expenses until I decided what I wanted to do with my life. I have no desire to interact with him any more than I have so far.

I pull my attention back to Mom, aware that I've been drifting in my head. I reach across the table and take her hand, surprising us both. "Mom, you have my full support, and I bet Pam's too. You've been too good to him and for him for years. I'm personally surprised that you didn't leave him years ago."

Her eyes look up from our clasped hands glistening with sad, unshed tears. "Because I still love him, Eric. I hate the cheating, the time I had to spend alone, and the fact that _he_ hasn't loved _me_ for a very long time. But I can't turn my heart off. I want to and God knows I've tried… so many times. This wouldn't hurt so much if I'd been able to do that." She shrugs and looks down again. "But I can't. And I can't let him know how this is ripping me apart."

Knowing that my mother still loves the asshole stuns me, though it shouldn't. I know more than I want about having feeling that can't be turned off… _shit,_ now I feel really fucking guilty. From the moment we left the bar at Montano's, I've done every fucking thing _wrong_. I left a lot unclear after our night in the hotel (which I really wish I could remember better). I didn't take her attempts at starting a real friendship with me seriously; part of me just wanted to fuck her again and that seemed like the best way to do it. When she confessed she wanted more, I blew her off. And not just for a few days to collect my thoughts. I _hurt_ her. More than I ever anticipated that I'd be able to and I'm not happy about the fact that I did, like I once thought I would be.

That douche who yelled at me in her driveway last night was more right than I wanted to acknowledge to a complete stranger, especially one who implied multiple times that he was sleeping with my… how would I even classify our relationship? She thoughtfully pointed me in the direction to actually do _something_ with my life and education that I would appreciate and enjoy. I show my appreciation to her by cutting her off. It's really unforgivable, the way I've treated her. I still fully intend on asking her for her forgiveness anyway.

I grab the check before my mother and hug her tightly. We go our separate ways and I sit in the car, just looking at her number on the screen. I have to give myself a pep talk before hitting send. It's occurred to me that she's apologized twice now for things she's not at fault for rather than bitching me out for the way I acted. She used to have no problem calling me out when I'm the asshole. I kind of miss it.

On the fifth ring, I'm convinced I'm going to end up leaving a message. After last night, there's no way I'm showing up unexpectedly… again. Before the sixth ring ends a sleepy voice answers, "Mmm… yeah, hi," she rasps.

I can see her in my head: blue eyes twinkling, blond hair wild around her shoulders, muscles pulling sinuously as she stretches. I forget to speak. "Umm, Eric? Are you there?"

I clear my throat, embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Do you mind if I come over now?"

"Hmm… how far away are you? I wanted to have lunch at the lake and I almost fell asleep. It'll take me about twenty minutes to get home."

I stop her. "No! I can be there in fifteen. The lake is closer. Do you mind waiting?" I don't want her to go; I want to talk to her in the peace of our field. There are a lot of things I need to say and I don't want to make it easy for her to run if she is inclined to do so.

"Sure, I can wait," she says, sounding confused. "I guess I'll see you in a few." It does take a genius to tell she's wary… not that I haven't given her a reason to be.

I pull out and start driving, a little faster than normal to meet my self-imposed fifteen minute deadline. I think about all my mom has told me, combining that wisdom with the unpleasant realities thrust upon me last night. I _do_ want her back. I want to see if anything of what we used to have still exists. There is something about her that won't let go of me. I wouldn't have felt that irrational jealously otherwise. I still have to ask her about that guy and I have to remind myself to keep calm so I can hear her out. Another temper tantrum on my part won't help anything.

Time flies as the familiar turns appear and before I know it, the open, green field fills my windshield. The cabin sits off to my right and I see movement in my peripheral vision. Sookie. Turquoise and cherry red string bikini. Oh fuck. God is punishing me. She finished tying on a red skirty cover-up thing and waves me over.

**SPOV**

I can't help but mentally chuckle at the dumbfounded glaze on his face when he sees me in my bikini. He's seen me in nothing and hasn't looked so stupefied. I wave him over to sit in the shade of the porch with me after I tie on the gauzy little sarong I found that matches this so perfectly. He takes a seat in a folding chair and watches as I sit on my chaise lounge. "So, I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?" I start quietly. Things are so much more awkward now than they used to be.

He nods. "Can I start with why I dropped off the face of the earth?"

I nod, slightly stunned. I thought for sure the Jake thing would be jumped on immediately. I lean back and wait for his explanation, I get a thrill when he tell me how the lead I gave him actually panned out and how he's thrown himself into his new job. I'm so proud of him and happy that he's doing something that he enjoys so much. However, it doesn't really explain why he disappeared for so long. When I ask about that, he looks down.

"I don't have an excuse for that. Really, I wanted to give you a few days to yourself, but I also needed some time to think. I wasn't sure what being with you again would be like and I didn't know how to talk to you about it. So I was a cowardly shit and avoided you."

Eric doesn't hide. But now I have to wonder… "So why did you show up last night? Jake said it looked like your head was about to explode."

"Eh…" he hesitates and turns a little pink. "I saw you two downtown while I was having dinner with the other coaches." The uncertain, nervous look slides off his face. "You kissed him and let him grab your ass. What kind of '_friends_' are you?"

I sigh and tamp down my frustration. "The very affectionate kind. I met Jake at a party in my apartment building at the end of my sophomore year. A mutual friend thought we'd hit it off and set us up. Once we met, we talked about how we were both too busy to keep up with dating or a relationship, despite there being an… attraction between us." I remember his accusation at the hotel about claiming other priorities to avoid commitments and shake my head at myself. "We started hanging out in our free time and, yes, occasionally we would uh… help each other out. But despite the physical aspects of our relationship, it remains _just_ a friendship. Besides," I add, cocking my eyebrow at him, "it's not like anyone else has a claim on my affections."

He huffs a deep breath and nods. "I deserve that. I have absolutely no right to feel jealous. You offered me a chance and I blew it. I… I just learned some things today and I want to do all I can to _not_ end up in a similar situation.

I can't remember a time recently when I've heard him sound so vulnerable. "Something you learned from your mom?" I ask and he nods again.

"My dad is divorcing her because he knocked up his girlfriend," he says drily and I gasp. I remember that he suspected his dad of cheating when we were in high school, but he didn't have any concrete proof. I hadn't said anything at the time, but I never liked the guy. "When I asked Mom why she stayed with a man who ignored her and cheated on her for years, she just said that she still loves him, no matter how much she doesn't want to. I don't want to be in either of their places."

I think I know what he means, but I still ask him for clarification. He runs his fingers through his hair, so sun-bleached it's almost white. "I don't want to love in misery, loving someone who doesn't love me back. But I also don't want to be so self-involved that I can take that kind of love for granted. I mean, Dad had it all: a beautiful, devoted wife, two kids that worshipped him, a big comfortable house, and a successful job. He _chose_ to give up everything but the job in favor of living like a childless bachelor – except when it suited him – and fucking a brainless, bleach-blond bimbo. I wonder how long it will be until _she_ starts resenting his hours and gets suspicious when he says he has to work late. How old will her kid be before it learns that _Daddy_ is an unreliable prick? How long until the asshole thinks he deserves better yet again and abandons another family?"

Uh… wow. I have no idea what to say. I don't what he wants or expects me to do. I scoot closer to him and rub the back of his hand sympathetically. He surprises me by twisting his writ and interlocks his fingers with mine. "I don't want to be like them. I don't want to take anything for granted. If the offer is still available… I want to try _this_ again."

Stunned. Shocked. That is absolutely the last thing I expect to hear from him. Part of me wants to jump him now, but the sensible part of me needs to know some things first. "You hurt me, Eric. I've dropped my guard… let myself be vulnerable in front of you so many times since I came back. Last time I opened up to you, you were in the wind for a month. I thought I'd ruined everything. Can you promise me that you won't do that to me again?" I need some kind of assurance; the only reason I'm admitting my hurt and exposing my weakness (again) is because he's done the same, putting us on even ground.

He takes my other hand and looks up. "I can't promise that I won't hurt you. It would never be intentional, but you know as well as I do that things happen. But I can promise that I'll try not to. But Sook, that guy said you were thinking of leaving…" he trails off.

Damn it, Jake! I forgot about that. It had been something I babbled about when I was telling him about Jason. I shake my head at Eric. "I was talking to him about a thought I had after Jason died. Being close to him was a big factor in me coming home. Losing him made me question that decision then, but now… I like my job, I love my house, and I feel good that I'm here for my parents. I'm happy here now and I don't have any plans to leave anytime soon," I say with a small shrug and a smile, hoping my explanation reassures him.

It does. His eyes crinkle a little at the corners as he smiles over at me from the folding chair. He slides to the edge, closer to where I'm reclined on the lounge. "So we're going to try this? You and me, again?"

Nodding, I scoot down closer to him. "Looks that way," I murmur, wondering how we're going to do this.

Lifting off the chair entirely, he kneels, straddling my legs. "Can I kiss you, Sookie?" he asks softly, leaning forward slightly. I nod again, locking his eyes with mine. He closes the distance and brushes my lips with his gently, so different from the violent, needy claiming in the hotel. Reflexively, my eyes drift closed and I lean into him, deepening the kiss. He runs the tip of his tongue over the seam of my lips, nips the lower one softly, and pulls back. His eyes open slowly and he looks slightly dazed. "I don't want to mess this up by going too fast. I there are _so_ many things I want to do right now, but I want this to be different. And on that note, " he stands with a grin, "I should leave while my willpower is still intact." He bends down to kiss my cheek before heading off.

As soon as the tail lights disappear, I temporarily turn into a fourteen-year old, squealing and kicking my feet like a seizing fangirl. Yes, it's silly, but it fits my mood. Giggling, I calm myself down, run down the dock and jump in the water for one last swim before heading home. When I surface, I flip to float on my back for a few peaceful minutes, just reveling in the simplicity. When I decide I just can't put off going home any longer, I wrap my towel around my waist and leave the lake, finding it ironic that it's all starting again where it ended last time.

**AN: The title of this chapter is from my very favorite song at the moment, despite the lack of mainstream radio play that it gets. Hope you enjoyed. MissyDee is my beta-savior for proofing and pre-reading for me. To everyone else, thanks for reading, reviewing, and alerting!**


	11. Do Me Like Ya Done Before

**AN:**_** *Peeks out ashamedly from behind her netbook***_Oh yeah, hi there. I know I'm awful. I have no excuses for the delay on this, except that I totally lost my motivation. MissyDee deserves a bunch of applause because during the weekend she spent here, we talked about our stories (and drank far too much wine in too short a time) and discussed a little editing that I wanted to do on this. Chapters 3-10 have had some tweaks made because this wasn't really flowing the way I wanted it to. The wonderific MissyDee also betaed, so muchas gracias to her for that also. AND… I have something I'm working on that I am promising myself I'm not going to post until it's done. I'd say I'm about a third of the way through now. No promises on updates for this… just when I feel the muse kicking my ass again. I don't own 'em… and I'm kind of dreading the 7th… I refuse to read spoilers of any kind. Please don't allude to DEA as I do want to be (mostly) surprised.

**SPOV**

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" chirps an annoyingly perky voice from the foot of my bed. I pull a pillow over my head and it's abruptly pulled away. "Come on, Sookie! Get up!"

"Fuuuuuuck, Hadley," I groan, "can't you call and announce that you're coming over like a normal, _considerate_ person? This letting-yourself-in shit should have ended years ago."

"Sorry, cuz," she says, completely insincerely. "You need to get your lazy ass out of bed and get dressed. We're going shopping!"

I pull the comforter back over my head and hold it with an iron-clad grasp. "I don't want to go shopping! Why the fuck do I have to go shopping _now_?"

She's stronger than I expect, yanking not only the comforter, but the sheets off my bed. "Get up," she says sternly. "Sophie dropped out as matron of honor and you're taking her place. You need a dress."

"Huh?" That gets my attention. "Why'd she drop out?" I sit up and rub my eyes, trying to focus.

My cousin folds her legs under her and sits on my now-naked mattress. "She's going to be ready to pop around the wedding date, if she doesn't go early. She's been thinking about it for a while and she doesn't feel comfortable with the possibility of going into labor during the ceremony, so she's bowing out. Sookie," she gives me her best begging face, "will you pleeeeeeeease be my maid of honor and get up to come dress shopping?"

Shit. She's done so much to support me over the past few months, the least I can do for her is to actually get out of bed and pick out a gorgeous, overpriced dress that I will wear exactly once. I pull on my glasses and fix my hair into a haphazard ponytail. "I'll do it, but coffee takes priority," I mumble, dragging myself to the kitchen.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she cheers behind me, forcing me to shut her up with a furious glare. I'm happy she's getting married and all excited about the wedding, but damnit, I need some caffeine before I can share in her giddiness. We sit at the table together and wait for the coffee to brew.

"So what colors are you going for," I ask, making conversation. Hadley and Alexi were planning on a smallish wedding, and I hadn't really paid much attention to the details.

"Well, it's late September, so I was going with fall colors: dark red and gold, with a few bronze and dark green accents."

"Maybe I should be more specific," I say with an eye roll, filling my mug. "What color dress am I getting?"

"We're meeting Chris and Megan at the shop. I haven't decided if I want the same dress in different colors or the same color with different style dresses. I think I'll see what they have and what works best for you guys"

I finish my mug and make her wait for me to finish another before I get dressed. It's my passive-aggressive revenge for her waking me up. I finally pull on some shorts and a tank top, brush my teeth, and form a somewhat neater ponytail. I haven't seen Hadley's friends since graduation and, honestly, all I ever was to them was their friend's cousin, so I don't care enough to put a LOT of effort into my appearance. I grab my purse and let Hadley shove me into her passenger seat.

When we get to the dress shop and when I see Chris and Megan for the first time in over five years, I know which option we're going with. While we have similar enough complexions – tan from the summer sun – there's isn't one single style that will look good on my curves, Chris' willowy model-like build, and Megan's tiny, doll-like frame. Hadley sees it the same time I do. One color, different styles it is. After trying countless pieces to find a perfect fit, I end up with a two-piece red dress with gold embroidered accents. Chris and Megan find styles that fit their bodies as well and we all go out to a well-earned lunch.

Sitting around the table of a generic chain restaurant near the mall, we attempt to catch up with each other. Chris had been the Prom Queen _and_ Homecoming Queen our senior year and was the popular girl that you _really_ wanted to hate, but just couldn't because she was So. Freaking. NICE. To everyone. Megan was quiet, and far more athletic than her tiny body gave away. She played soccer, tennis, and volleyball. Neither of them really associated with the same kids that I did, so all I knew of them was what I gathered from Hadley or general school gossip. Chris had gotten married earlier this summer, with Hadley as one of her bridesmaids and was still giddy in her honeymoon stage. Megan didn't know what she wanted to do just yet, but funnily enough, _she_ was doing personal training at a nearby gym while she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

When my turn to catch up comes, I start with the easiest place, the local column I write for the paper. Hadley smirks at me. "And what is this I heard about a dashing young man from Chicago escorting you around a few weeks ago?"

"Oh. Umm, my friend Jake moved down to go to VCOM in the winter and looked me up since he knew I lived in the area. We're just friends. I'm uh… I'mbackwithEric," I mumble.

"Sorry, hon? What was that?" Chris asks, looking honestly confused. She would be so much easier to hate if she were fake and insincere like the girls that used to hang out with Eric.

I sigh, knowing Hadley is going to jump on me over this. "I'm back with Eric. We got back together about a week ago." All I see is shock on the three faces staring back at me.

"How?" is all Had can sputter at me.

"Did you know he came to Jason's funeral?" I ask her. She shakes her head, so I continue. "I ran into him at the lake after the burial and he comforted me. We would run into each other here and there and had a long talk about why things ended last time…"

"Yeah, you dumped his ass," Megan interrupts with an uncharacteristic smirk. She shrinks even smaller under a three-way glare and mutters, "Sorry, go on."

"_Anyway,_" I continue, with a pointed look, "we hung out for a few weeks, got to know each other again, and decided to give _us_ another shot. We were good together years ago; it should be interesting now that we're actually adults now."

Hadley knows me well enough to know I'm telling an abbreviated story, but lets it drop until later. We finish our meals and part ways. As soon as we're in her car and on the road, she starts in. "What the hell, Sookie?"

"I knew you were going to say something. What part do you have a problem with?"

She shoots me a furious look before returning her attention to the road. "How about he's an even bigger slut now than he was in high school? I don't even live here anymore and I've heard stories. He's with a different girl every damn night! You can't want to get back with him!"

My back stiffens. "First, he's not. Your gossip is out of date. And I'm not saying that it's exactly 'okay' that he was screwing almost anything in a skirt, but he knows that I don't share. We're just trying to see if we have anything like what we used to have. If not, we can move on. Things last time didn't exactly end well, for either of us."

She scowls and flicks her eyes at me. "That's bullshit, you know that? You had a very good reason for breaking up with him last time and he acted like a petulant child about it. Sook, we were seventeen years old! I told Chester the same thing after I graduated. He wanted me to stay here and I wanted to go out and see things. I didn't want to spend my college years depriving myself of experiences because he was here, waiting on me to get my 'exploring' out of my system. I don't think there was any way your relationship could have survived the time and distance, if you want my opinion. Just be careful if you're handing him your heart again. He has the ability to burn you badly right now."

I know what she means, and I've considered the possibility that I won't be enough for him anymore. It's an experiment right now. If he wants someone other than me, that's all he's going to get. I wasn't kidding when I said that I don't share.

* * *

"Damn it, this is frustrating as hell and I don't know how much more I can take," I groan to Jake. We're sitting in the corner at a little coffee shop near his condo and I lightly bang my forehead on the table between us.

"It's unusual, that's for sure. I really don't have any advice to give you, Stackhouse." He pats my hand in sympathy and sips his coffee, waiting for me to lift my head from the table.

Eric and I have been giving this thing a go for a little over a month now. We've been on dates when we have the free time, which during football season, is precious and rare. I've been to a couple of games to cheer his team on, even if I still don't fully understand the game. We've gone out to eat and to movies if we can find one we agree on. He's gone with me to a few events around the area that I've needed to write about. And each time we have ended up at either his place or mine, furiously making out, only to have him put on the brakes and tell me that he doesn't want to mess things up by jumping the gun. So, by this point, the imp in my head named Sookie's libido is stomping her foot and having a little temper tantrum.

"I just don't get it. Things seem to be going so well, but why the fuck is he holding out on me. I wouldn't be surprised if this has been the longest dry spell he's had since we broke up. And it's self-imposed! It makes me wonder if he's as dedicated to me as he wants me to think." It comes out muffles since my face is still pressed into the table, making Jake laugh.

"You can't doubt him. That's just asking for trouble. You get suspicious, he gets offended by the lack of trust… at this point Stackhouse, you're going to have to let it play out. Other than not putting out when you want, has he given you any reason to think he's being less than honorable?"

"Noooo," I whine, drawing the word out to emphasize my frustration. "But if this is what blue balls are like for boys, I apologize for every instance I've ever caused them cuz this _sucks_!"

His chuckles are almost insulting. "Do you think he realizes how much you're… er… _suffering_?" he asks.

Lifting my head from the table, I sigh. "No. I manage to hold off on my frustrated cursing until he's gone or I leave. I'm pretty damn sure that my steering wheel has heard swears coming from me that it's never heard before, even in fits of O'Hare induced road-rage." Chicago's largest airport sucks and the traffic surrounding it is even worse.

His eyes widen. "How the hell do you expect him to know what you want then? For God's sake, you're not a damn teenager anymore. You're a supposed adult, with a job and a house and responsibilities and should have the fucking maturity to tell your boyfriend that you're horny and want him to fuck you until you can't walk straight. If you can't handle that, how the hell do you think you're going to be able to handle the other issues that come up in a relationship?"

He's right. God knows I didn't have any issues with telling him what I wanted when I was sixteen. I never had a problem with voicing what I wanted with the guys I had benefits with at Northwestern. Jake himself never knew me to be shy, so this is puzzling him. "I just don't want to mess things up."

He scoots his chair over to mine and puts his arm around me. "He's holding off on making things physical because he doesn't want there to be all there is. It's admirable, sure, but not fulfilling. You're not telling him what you want because you don't want to push him if he's not ready to take things further. I bet neither of you held back in any way when you were together before."

His common sense and logic kind of irritate me, especially when he's right about how stupid I'm acting. And, admittedly, I'm insecure that if he's not getting it from me, he's getting it from somewhere else and the paranoia is paralyzing. "So I need to grow the fuck up and deal with the shit to make sure things don't go downhill before they even start is what you're basically telling me, right?"

His smile is intentionally patronizing. "Aww, look at who decided to start following along!" His expression softens a bit. "I still don't think he's good enough for you, but I'm going to be here for you no matter what. What does he think of _this_, by the way?" he asks with a skeptical glare, gesturing between the two of us.

"Er…" I hedge and stall. Eric is _not_ happy with my friendship with Jake. I've told him about the relationship (for lack of a better term) Jake and I had while we were at Northwestern together. He can't really throw any stones at me for having my own life while he took clear advantage of his single status; he swears that Jake wants more from me than just a friendship. He doesn't get that Jake respects the boundaries of this new thing that Eric and I are trying. When he and I were single, there was no issue with us hooking up, but Jake won't go after a girl in a relationship. His logical brain realizes that there are other, just as attractive girls that don't have the drama of a boyfriend attached that he can dog after. It doesn't mean that he doesn't still flirt; that's just who he is. But it's harmless. We both realize that and the flutters he used to give me just don't compare to the ones I get from Eric.

"I figured. Talk to the man. If you're too… _southern and ladylike_," he says with a sarcastic eye roll, "to make the first move, you can always tempt and tease him until he's too crazed to keep up the mammoth self-control you're cursing. You know what he likes… flaunt it until he can't take it anymore."

* * *

**EPOV**

I flip through my closet, trying to find a tie that will coordinate with Sookie's bridesmaid dress. I find a dark red, almost maroon tie and think that's as close as I'm going to get. It looks good with my dark gray suit either way.

These past few weeks with Sookie have been an almost pleasurable torture, but I keep my urge to pin her wherever she stands and screw her senseless under control. I want her just as much as I used to, but I want there to be more between us than sex. There has to be if things between us are going to work out, long-term.

I wait for Sookie to meet me at my condo before we leave for North Carolina. Hadley decided to have her wedding in her current town rather than where she grew up, so the entire Stackhouse family is driving three hours to the south for the ceremony and reception. Since her SUV is more comfortable and newer than my Camaro, we're going to be driving that. She's coming to the game with me, and then heading straight to the hotel right after so we can crash and not have to rush the next day. I'll rest and relax in the room while Sookie gets her girlie stuff like hair and nails done with Hadley and the other bridesmaids, then meet them at the church for the ceremony. The reception is in the ballroom of the hotel, so it's completely convenient.

She pulls in next to my car and I see her dress hanging in the back seat. I greet her with a smile and see she's dressed for me with a tight, fitted t-shirt in support of my team and she has a tiny, temporary tattoo with our mascot on her cheek. She gives me a wet kiss on the cheek and bounces on the balls of her feet. "Ready to go?" she asks. Her voice is slightly higher than usual.

I can't help but laugh at her. "How much coffee have you had?"

She doesn't stop bouncing, but shrugs with a grin. "More than I really needed. I wanted to make sure I can stay awake for the drive since you'll probably be wiped after the game. Ready?"

I grab my overnight bag and make sure I have clothes to change into after the game since I tend to run myself ragged on the sidelines. "Ready… let's hit it."

Since we get there early, she's able to find a prime seat in the home bleachers. I join my boys in the locker room and review game strategy, but they're ready. We take the field and for forty-eight minutes (in football time; in real time it's about three hours), I run, scream, call plays, and block out everything except what's going on on the field. The scoreboard reflects our hard work: 34-13 at the end of the fourth quarter. I join my guys in the locker room, give congratulations where they are due, and change out of my sweaty sideline clothes. Sookie meets me right outside, drawing more than one of my player's eyes in the shirt that hugs her tits like a second skin. She makes this whole self-control thing much harder than necessary by dressing like this.

I can't help but crash in the passenger seat once we're on the interstate. Before I know it, Sookie is shaking my knee. "Wake up, hon. We're here."

I blink and the clock in the dash says it's just before two am. "God, I was really out. Are you okay?"

She smiles, but it's tired. "Starbucks does a body good, but I'm coming down. I'm going to need to lie down soon. Let me check in and we can get to a proper bed before we're too wiped to get out of the car."

I walk into the lobby with her to stretch my legs and realize something: this will be the first time since we've gotten back together that we'll be sharing a bed. I've made it a point not to push myself that far and I'm tempted to get a separate room, but that's too much. I'm an adult. I can control myself… with Sookie… in very little clothing… alone… _fuck._

She sees no sign of my inner conflict as she hands me the keycard and walks back out to the SUV. We park and get out closer to our room and pull out the bags. At least I don't have to worry about anything tonight. She changes into pajamas quickly and is asleep almost before I can join her in the huge king bed. I can only hope she's this tired after the wedding tomorrow.

**AN:** I hope this chapter inspires some reviews to keep my motivation hanging around. Thanks for reading.


	12. Every man's got his patience

**AN: So this was harder to write than I thought. Can I just say that writing a sex scene while sitting in the café at Barnes and Noble is damn awkward? I'm sorry if I didn't respond to reviews – I'm a total slacker about that because my kids take up so much time and the rest of the time I'm usually reading other people's stuff. Here goes though: Thank you to RealJena for betaing my crappy typing skills and encouraging me to press on through my aversion to writing lemons and MissyDee for betaing and sending me new stuff to read. **** Enjoy the characters I own in no way, shape, or form (except Chris and Megan – I actually went to school with them).**

* * *

**SPOV**

"You may kiss your bride. Ladies and gentlemen, let me be the first to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Alexi Banks," the minister says as Alexi dips my cousin back, giving her a kiss that is in no way appropriate for a church. I lift my small bouquet to cover my mouth, hiding my giggles – my aunt and uncle look horrified!

After Hadley and Alexi ascend the aisle, I take the arm of Alexi's brother and best man Ivan to follow. I see Eric in the audience and throw him a wink. His face still bears a trace of laughter at Alexi's antics. Behind me, Chris walks with Andre and Megan is escorted by the other groomsman, Warren.

While the guests file out to head to the hotel for the reception, the wedding party has to stay behind with the bride and groom for pictures. After that torturous and seemingly never-ending ordeal, we bridesmaids and groomsmen take one limo to the hotel while Had and Alexi take another. I won't be surprised in the least if they are considerably late to their own party – Hadley enacted a three-month sex ban to "heighten the excitement" of their wedding night. Ivan chuckles, saying that Alexi doesn't plan on waiting for the "night" part, earning him a dirty look from the bride's brother. Oops. The rest of us have to fight not to laugh.

The limo slows to a stop at the hotel and to no one's shock, the other limo is no longer following us and we're stuck waiting. Fortunately, it's only for about fifteen minutes when the white stretch arrives and the bride and groom exit, looking considerably less… tense. Hadley quietly asks me if her hair is messed up and I assure her it's fine, nudging her with my elbow. She flushes pink and nudges me back. I give her a quick one-armed hug and teeter in my heels to join Ivan as the wedding party is announced.

After the formalities of arriving, I sit next to Eric to eat my chicken dinner. He keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye and giving me little grins. Since arriving last night, he's been unusually quiet. Sleeping next to him was an experience I hadn't had since high school and it was one that I didn't know I missed.

I was truly exhausted when we got to the hotel, crashing from my Starbucks high at an alarming rate. I barely remember falling into bed, but know I must have made it before collapsing on the floor. When I shifted during the night, I could feel Eric's long lean frame spooning me from behind, his arm slung over my waist. Feeling more comfortable than I had in a long time, I snuggled back into him and drifted off again.

I let Eric sleep when Hadley came to claim me for the bridesmaids' spa day: hair, mani/pedi, facial, makeup. I kissed his forehead and left him my keys if he wanted to venture out in Charlotte while I was being beautified and a note reminding him of the time and place of the ceremony.

"You look beautiful tonight. That color looks amazing on you," Eric says softly, not wanting to draw anyone's attention.

I look down at my red bridesmaid dress. The top is sleeveless and fitted, with dainty gold filigree embroidery around the neck and hem. The skirt is long and tight, with a side slit edged with the same gold accents. I'd never been a big fan of the color, but I know that red in all its many shades is Eric's favorite. I smile at him shyly. "Thanks. You look pretty good yourself."

He does. The gray suit looks fantastic on him and makes his eyes seem even bluer in comparison. He thanks me and we finish our dinners in only slightly awkward silence.

Ivan stands once the plates are cleared, giving the customary first toast of the night. He tells the crowd of his first meeting with Hadley and how his reserved family reacted to the boisterous, outgoing girl that has always been my cousin. Sophie rises next, clearly ready to have her baby at any time. Her speech is heartfelt and overflowing with emotion at seeing her little sister married. The fathers say their pieces, and I get to my feet, introducing myself.

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse, Hadley's cousin. Hadley and I grew up like sisters. If we had been born any closer together, we might as well have been twins. She was my first best friend when we were little and who I would go to when my brother wouldn't stop picking on me, knowing that the two of us together could take him." I give Hadley a sad smile, remembering the times we would gang up on Jason for teasing taken a little too far. "Jason couldn't be here today, but I know that he loved Hadley just like another sister. And while Hadley and I may not live next door to each other anymore or spend our days dreaming up tortures for overzealous big brothers," both of us stare at Andre for a beat too long for his comfort; when he turns pink, I continue, "she will always be my almost sister. Alexi, welcome to the family and may you both have a very happy marriage. Congratulations, guys," I finish and lift my glass. The other guests do the same and soon after, the toasts finish with the tinkling of glasses. Alexi grins at his bride and dips her back for another enthusiastic kiss before leading her to the floor for their first dance as man and wife.

I lean into Eric's side and smile watching them. It had been strange to see Hadley with someone other than Chester when I first met Alexi, but his reserved shell soon fell away after a single holiday with the Stackhouses. The way Had looks up into Alexi's eyes as they dance is something that I want for myself.

The traditional dances finish, Had dances with Uncle Victor and Lex with his mom. They cut the cake, both of them restraining from smooshing the cake in the other's face. The final ritual has to be completed before the party can commence.

Hadley makes sure Megan and I, along with the other single women in attendance, crowd behind her. She flicks her eyes at me, telling me without words, that she will be doing her damnedest to get her bouquet to me when she flings it over her shoulder. I don't know if the calla lilies have built in Sookie-seekers or if Hadley's just that damn good at throwing blind, but the flowers seem to fall right into my hands.

The women stand to the side and giggle at the reluctant men that take the floor, including Eric when I give him a good-natured shove. He rolls his eyes at me, but joins the group. Alexi shocks my aunt and uncle again by retrieving Hadley's garter by diving under her skirt and pulling it down her leg with his teeth. From the amount of time it took for him to bring the little elastic band to her ankles, I'm guessing he was multi-tasking with a little teasing while his head was under her dress. He turns his back on the gaggle of guys and shoots the garter with precision.

Hadley may have been aiming the bouquet for me, but Eric's long arms virtually guarantee him to catch the band of gold satin that goes flying over Alexi's shoulder. Twirling the garter on his finger, he gives me a wicked grin that makes my stomach tense and cheeks flush. I have a feeling my mom and dad are going to have identical expressions as Uncle Victor and Aunt Sandy in a few minutes.

The wedding planner places a chair in the middle of the dance floor and leads Eric and I to our positions. I take the seat and the DJ starts playing the damn burlesque music. "Ladies and gentlemen, the man who caught the garter will place it on the leg of the woman that caught the bouquet. Remember that every inch above the knee is a year of good fortune for the newlyweds, so let's see how high we can get it!" Oh. God.

Eric kneels in front of me and gently removes the insanely high heel from my right foot. Setting it to the side, he slides the garter over my foot and ankle. Once he gets the band to mid-calf, he winks, ducks his head, and starts pulling it up my leg in the same manner that Alexi removed it from Hadley. Thanks to the side slit of the skirt, he's able to get the garter a good six inches up my thigh before he can't maneuver further. He removes himself from my clothes, and slides his fingers up my leg to push the band higher. My face is so hot that I know I have to be matching my dress right now and Eric leans down to my ear. "We want them to have a long and happy marriage, don't we?" he whispers rhetorically.

When his hand reaches past the top of my stocking, he looks at me quizzically. It seems as if he's found my surprise for tonight. I smile through my embarrassment and mouth "Later" at his startled expression. I can see his frustration at having to wait as the garter embraces my hip at its highest point.

The crowd applauds (even my parents who only look slightly scandalized) and the wedding planner clears the dance floor again, inviting the guests to dance and mingle. After about an hour of socializing, I see Alexi start to lead Hadley out of the ballroom, only to be stopped by various well-wishers and his annoyance is becoming apparent. I really pity whoever has the room below the Honeymoon Suite tonight.

Eric claims me for a few dances between making conversation with some of my relatives that he remembers from high school. Momma and Daddy already knew I was seeing Eric again before tonight, but hadn't had a chance to speak with him until now. I roll my eyes at Mom while Daddy and Eric get into a long discussion about football. After twenty minutes of talking about stats, teams, plays, and conferences, I notice the ballroom starting to slowly empty. Momma catches me looking around and pulls Daddy away from his new buddy, leaving us _finally_ able to leave.

We don't talk as we make our way to the elevator, but this silence isn't in any way awkward… it's anticipatory. He holds my hand tightly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye, making me blush as I watch the numbers get closer and closer to our floor.

**EPOV**

She looks amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off her throughout the entire ceremony. Only when I saw her trying to hide laughter did I look at the bride and groom to see what would cause her to have that reaction. Her expression is what caused my amusement, not the antics of the newlyweds.

When Alexi threw the garter, I reached up to catch it on instinct, not really intending to participate in the spectacle. Sookie's insistent shove is the only reason I stood there. When I realized that I would be putting the garter on _her_, I felt a bit better. Her legs are still as shapely and toned as they were years ago. I felt the change from her silky stockings to her even softer skin and a lacy band attaching to the hose. Dear God, if she is wearing a garter belt under that tempting dress, I don't know if my will-power will hold out.

I want to do this right. I want to make us more than we used to be. We were together (officially) for a little less than a year the first time and, while it wasn't all about sex, that was still a major factor. I want to get to know her again and I don't want everything getting skewed because we became physical too fast. Things _need_ to be different this time.

I wait while she retrieves the key-card from her little purse and follow her in. The hotel room is generic, as most are, but it makes no difference to me. I start shedding my suit while Sookie heads to the restroom with a pair of clothes hangers. I'm down to my slacks and an undershirt when she comes back out. My mouth goes dry, my pulse pounds, and I get hard just seeing her.

Her hair is still in the casual curls from the wedding, but some of her makeup has been washed off. What I can't take my eyes off of is the black and red lingerie. The cups are her bra are barely big enough to do their job and show off her cleavage to distracting perfection. Her stomach still holds hints of the deep bronze she was during the summer. Her panties are barely more than a scrap of lace that matches the bra and I can't help but want to tear them off her with my teeth. But the tantalizing treat that I just knew was coming was the coordinated garter belt tying everything together. Black lace suspenders attached to the top of her stocking seem to make her legs a mile long. I don't know how long I stand like a gaping mute idiot before she moves toward me, snapping me out of my suspended animation.

"Eric," she croons softly in a sing-song voice, "do you like my surprise?"

I close my eyes and try to will at least some of my blood back to my brain so I can formulate a response. "More than you possibly know," I mumble, attempting to keep from cracking.

"I got it with you in mind. When I tried it on, I imagined how you would take each piece off. I want to see how close I was," she whispers and I can feel the heat from her body, even though she's not touching me. Yet.

I can smell her better than I could in the ballroom. She still has the distinct scent of peaches, but it's different… it seems to be mixed with vanilla and something I can't put my finger on. It's a more grown-up and mature and makes my mouth water. I have to keep my eyes closed. I don't know how I'm going to do this.

"You look beautiful, just like you always do Sook. That can't be comfortable though. Aren't you tired? We should get to sleep since we have a long drive tomorrow." The words spill out my mouth helplessly. My control is faltering.

Hot fingertips trail over my shoulder and I feel her standing directly in front of me. "Don't you want me, Eric?" she asks softly, her voice no longer teasing, but tinged with hurt.

I open my eyes and look down on her lovely face, no longer smiling. "I always want you, Sookie. _Always_," I emphasize. "I don't want to mess this up. I don't know if I could take losing you again. I want to make sure that _we're_ sure before we take that step."

"Talk to me about it, then. I've been going crazy for weeks wondering why you won't do what we both obviously want to do. Eric, nothing in life is certain. I learned that the hard way last May. Life is too short to squander the moments that make life more than just an existence. I want you Eric more than I've ever wanted anyone. I want to take this step with you. If you're not ready or just don't want me, I deserve to know now. If you don't want me like I want you, what are we even doing here?" she pleads with me, her stormy blue eyes locked on mine.

How can she possibly think that I don't want her? I've had more dates with the shower and my hand than I have since high school. Every time we parted, my mind would race with the things I wanted to do with her and to her. I had no idea that she was suffering the same kind of frustration that I was. I take her hand and lead her to the bed, sitting her down as I kneel before her for the second time tonight. "Yet again, we need to work on our communication. Neither of us are mind-readers." I bow my head and rest it on her knees. "We won't work if we don't talk honestly, and I'm just as guilty of clamming up as you are. If we're serious about making this work, we need to act like the adults we are and let each other know what's going on." She nods and sniffles a little. "Sookie, I've never wanted anyone like I want you. If we do this tonight… I just… I don't know how gentle I'm going to be able to be. I've been holding myself back for so long…" I trail off.

She smiles softly and tilts my head up to meet her eyes. "I don't care if it sounds petty, but hard, soft, gentle and slow or hard and brutal… I just really don't care. I just want to be with you, Eric. Please don't turn me down tonight."

My will-power shatters and I pull her to me for a kiss. My fingers sink into her blond waves and she grasps my shoulders, pulling me as close as she can. I don't section off a part of my mind like I have every other time. I let my entire consciousness sink into Sookie: the taste of her lips, the intoxicating, rich scent of her skin, the feel of her blunt nails scraping over my arms.

I stand and pull her to her feet with me. Cupping her gorgeous ass, I lift her and her legs immediately wrap around my waist, fitting us together intimately. Flexing my hips between hers makes her moan deeply against my neck. Wanting to touch more of her, I turn and sit back on the bed, taking her with me. She adjusts herself so she's straddling my legs, sitting on my lap, leaving my hands free. I kiss my way over her jaw and down her neck to that breathtaking cleavage. I shiver from her breathy sigh when I run my tongue down the valley between her breasts. I turn us over so I'm above her and take full advantage of the position. I use my weight to hold her down while I reacquaint my lips, tongue, and teeth with her anatomy, avoiding anywhere covered. I want to build our own kind of anticipation.

Once I've kissed my way from her hairline to her toes and back, I pull her up again and stand her before the foot of the bed. I lean back on my elbows and meet her eyes with a smirk. "Take off the stockings, Sookie."

She looks like she's about to argue, since she said she imagined _me_ undressing her, but I want to see this. I want her to strip for me and she can tell. Matching my smirk with one of her own, she perches a foot on my knee as she flicks the dainty clips of the suspenders loose. So very slowly, she rolls the hose off each leg carefully, smoothing them out and setting them to the side after she's done.

"Unclasp your bra and let the straps fall down your arms. Don't take it off yet." She turns so her back is to me. I take the moment to pull my undershirt off and toss it away, not really caring where it lands. Her fingers nimbly and slowly flick open the hooks of her bra and the slack straps hang down her arms. Crossing her arms over her chest to hold her bra up, she turns back to face me and her eyes noticeably darken at the sight of my bare torso. She stands tensely, awaiting my next command.

"Drop your arms and let your bra slide to the floor," I say huskily and she complies at once. Her breasts are still magnificent, still big enough to fill my hands perfectly. Her eye contact never wavers. She waits again.

I consider her two remaining garments, trying to decide what I want her to take off next. Deciding to give into my earlier impulse, I sit up straighter. "Take off the garter belt and turn around." Grinning, she twists to reach behind her, struggles for a moment, then faces me.

"I can't get to the clasps. Will you help me?" she asks. I nod and she turns around and I see her dilemma. The claps are hook and eye like a bra and it would be difficult to rotate her shoulders to get the belt unclasped. I flick each one open slowly and on the last one, I let it drop to the floor to join her bra.

I look over her in the tiny black and red thong. Her body and tensed and her back is stiff. I stand and run a single finger down her spine. "Relax, Sookie." I dip down and nip at her neck. "Surely you can't be mad at me for wanting to take my time."

She shakes her head and arches against my hand on her back. "Surely _you_ can't fault _me_ for my frustration. I want you so badly, Eric," she groans.

I spin her around and lay her back on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. "Then let me relieve some of that frustration for you," I whisper before pressing a passionate kiss to her mouth. I get distracted by the way her tongue massages mine and her fingernails against my scalp. When I remember my mission, I break the kiss and move down her chest to tease her perfectly pink nipples with my lips and teeth, alternating nipping softly and suckling until her buds are stiff with arousal.

My whiskers tickle her stomach as I press soft kisses around her navel. I nip at her hip bones until I reach the sinfully low rise of her thong. Running my tongue under the waistband, she whimpers. I grip the flimsy material with my teeth, but instead of ripping it like my first thought, I gently pull it down her legs until it falls off her feet. Seeing her completely naked below me, I decide I need to take care of her first, because after the build-up over the past few months, I don't think I can possibly last once I'm inside her.

My palms slide over her satiny skin and listen to her heavy breathing. I inch closer to her center and the scent of her arousal mixes with the peach-vanilla of her skin and my mind goes blank. Her lower lips glisten; I can't wait to taste her – it's been far too long. I run my tongue over her inner thighs and she shivers as I savor the flavor of her skin. She's absolutely intoxicating.

**SPOV**

Christ, I need him. I've been wanting him, _craving_ him, since we started seeing each other again. Never did I think I would have to wait this long, but he's making it worth it, drawing out the experience, building the longing between us. I gasp when he licks my thighs and feel goosebumps erupt over every inch of me. Almost leisurely, he lifts each leg to rest over his shoulders and grips my hips surprising firmly, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed.

I'm so turned on right now. The way he commanded me during the strip tease was unexpectedly exciting. I want nothing more than for him to pounce on me and make me forget my name, but I know he won't… at least, not yet. Things between us are so charged and I can't remember a time before that he had me feeling this way. In high school, we were stupid horny kids. At the hotel, we were drunk, stupid, and horny; neither of us can remember totally what happened. _This_, this time, right here and now, is about reconnecting in a way that we haven't yet and my whole body feels like a live nerve ending.

The tip of his tongue runs through my folds and I don't even try to bite back the moan of "Oh God!" that rips from my throat. It's been so long. I can feel him smile against my skin and he stops teasing me with little flicks and nips. He flattens his tongue and licks me hard from ass to clit and my whole body shakes. Over and over, I feel his hot, wet mouth taking in and savoring every drop of my arousal.

His lips close around my sensitive pearl and suck with force that's almost painful. I cry out again and he repeats the action, alternating his suckling with long swipes with his oh-so-talented tongue. Over and over, he keeps me teetering on the edge and it's not long before I'm fucking _begging_ him to let me come and stop with the teasing.

He doesn't respond except to concentrate his efforts on my clit, flicking it over and over. So slowly, he eases two fingers into me and suddenly I'm even closer. Despite the arm draped over my hips to hold me in place, I shift against his hand, trying to get some kind of sweet friction. He hums against my clit and starts twisting his fingers, scissoring them, stretching me to take him.

I'm whimpering incoherently; I need some kind of relief. I can feel my walls pulsing around his fingers and he remembers just how to push me over. My pulse pounds in my ears and I can't concentrate on anything except the ball of tension in my abdomen popping and crackling. Deciding to end my torture, he curls his finger in that "come hither" motion that I love so much and the world freaking explodes, filling my sight with fireworks of blue and white as I come harder than I can ever remember.

His tongue bathes my opening, cleaning the juices of my orgasm lovingly and it's almost too much for my oversensitive body to take. Wave after wave of pleasure from intense aftershocks make my muscles quiver and my bones feel like jelly. As if knowing I need time to calm down, he softly kisses his way back up my body, skimming my sides with just his fingertips. He lies to my side and gently pulls me back up from the foot of the bed, holding my still-shaking body against his.

"Sookie, I don't know how long I'm going to be able to last. I've wanted you for far too long to hold myself back for long. Don't hold it against me; I promise to make it up to you later," he mumbles in my ear as he peppers my neck with tiny kisses.

I turn over to face him and tilt his head down to meet my eyes. "Baby, after _that_, you can do whatever the hell you want. But please do it soon. I need to feel you inside me."

He hops off the bed and quickly pulls off the dark gray slacks and black boxer briefs that I don't have time to appreciate. His erection springs forward, already dripping pearly drops of pre-cum. I slither to the edge of the bed to taste him, but he stops me. "Sookie, you can't. It'd be too much. I want to feel you around me."

I nod and grab his hands to pull him to me, turning so I'm under him and kiss him hard, tasting myself on his tongue. He reaches between us and slides his cock between my lips, coating himself with my juices. Lining himself up with my opening, he pushes into me slowly, both of us groaning at the sensation. He buries his erection in me to the hilt and holds still, his eyes shut tight. "Shit, Lover… you feel better than I remember," he grunts, his body rigid above me.

"You feel good too, baby. Please, let go. Let me feel you," I whimper, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper, digging my heels into his muscular ass insistently.

He takes a few deep breaths and opens his eyes. He sits up on his knees and pulls my legs from around him. "We're going to do this my way," he says firmly, his eyes blazing a butane blue. Grabbing my ankles, he holds my legs together and props them on his shoulder. Withdrawing slowly, he hisses. "Damn, you're even tighter like this. Don't move."

It's a new kind of torture. He feels even bigger like this and the ball from earlier starts crackling again. "Please baby… I need you," I beg. I've been wanting this for far too long to wait patiently.

He takes me at my word and shoves into hard and deep, just like I want. I'm so full it's like I can feel him throughout my entire body. Faster and harder, he fucks me, over and over promising that he'll take his time next time. I barely hear him over the slapping of his skin against mine and both of our moans, whimpers and cries of pleasure.

He swells inside me and the smooth rhythm of his hips becomes erratic; I know he's about to come. I reach down and rub tight circles over my clit, wanting to come with him. He watches my fingers and groans, bucking into me harder than before, the head of his cock hitting my spot perfectly to make me explode again, making me cry and shake helplessly.

He follows me over and I feel pulse after pulse of him inside me, my walls clutching at him to keep him inside me. He starts to pull out and I grip his back. "Don't! I want to keep you inside me." I've gone without this feel of him for so long; I don't want to be parted from it so soon.

He twists and pulls me on top of him so we can both lie down and he won't be crushing me. I snuggle against his slightly sweaty chest, loving the masculine smell of him that hasn't changed a bit in the past five years. Savoring the feel of his body again, I lazily, absentmindedly draw patterns over his arms with my fingertips and press kisses to his chest whenever the urge strikes me, sometimes licking or sucking on his nipples just to feel him jump and moan.

I feel him hardening inside me and I look up. "Again? Already? Really?"

He sits me up and takes a nipple in his mouth. Sucking hard, he releases it with a pop. "Yes, really. I'm just as surprised as you since I thought you wore me out, but I think I have a second wind. Ride me, Lover. Let me see you move the way that only you can."

The rest of the night, we take turns surprising each other with our stamina. We don't get much sleep, but leave Charlotte in the morning feeling closer than we have in a long time.

**AN: Thanks for reading. The reviews make it totally worth it.**


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